Lifeblood
by NeekerBreeker
Summary: How easy it is to become dependent on pain and not even notice it.
1. Repentance

Lifeblood  
  
A Yami no Matsuei fanfic by NeekerBreeker(@fanficcer.zzn.com)  
  
Disclaimer: Humor me. Sue my sorry, poor ass and watch me laugh at your pitiful attempt to squeeze any money out of me.  
  
Rating: So far PG-13, but will get R-ish.  
  
Warnings: Beat it, homophobe, before I send Raven the Great Ukenizer after you. And if you're suffering from a severe fear of ghosts, bugger off back to mommy right now.  
  
Summary: How easy it is to become dependent on pain and not even notice it.  
  
Pairing: Tsuzuki x Hisoka. Big surprise, innit...  
  
Feedback: You got some constructive criticism? Gimme gimme. Of course, if you just want to feed my ego and tell me you like my ficcie, I wouldn't say no. ~_^  
  
Blabber: All I know of YnM, I've learned from the TV eps 1-10. This is an AU gap that takes place right after the boys return from their cruise, after King of Swords arc.   
  
UPDATE! I actually have read the manga now and I know they *did* go to the hot springs and had a rest after the King of Swords arc. But since the manga differs in various other points too, I decided to ignore it for this story. My apologies, I love the manga but I just don't feel like rewriting two chapters for it. So this is animeverse, fellow Yami-enthusiast. Let's keep that in mind. ^_^  
  
And another UPDATE! I've tried to clean out all the fangirl Japanese, but there were some terms I just had to leave there. I'm stupid, and don't have my Webster's. If you can think of a way to translate the following terms into good English, drop me a line, will ya? Thanks.  
  
So, anyway, here's The Glossary That Could Not Be Avoided.  
  
Yuurei = basically, a ghost. But I'm making a distinction between Western ghosts and Japanese ghosts in this story, so I decided to leave this untranslated. So a yuurei is a Japanese ghost, and a ghost… a Western ghost. Got it? There *are* differences. Go read on the topic, I could rant on about it for ages.  
  
Shinigami = a death god. But there are many of them, so nothing quite as powerful as the Grim Reaper or Odin or other gods of death in Western mythology. In case you don't know, Tsuzuki and Hisoka are also such beings. That's why they get the neat powers!  
  
Ofuda = a "spell paper". As far as I understand, a piece of pergament on which the spell is written in black ink, using kanji characters which are so artistically drawn that no one can read them. (That is, I can't read them. -_-;) Tsuzuki uses these as components when he casts spells.  
  
Kekkai = *I* know what it means, *you* probably know what it means, but doesn't "protective wall" or whatever you want to call it sound clumsy? I can't think of a good, general translation, and neither can my huge dictionary (don't the writers of dictionaries watch anime?). Tasukete kudasai.  
  
Gyuudon = It's a dish. Very popular in Japan, and cheap, too. Basically some beef on udon noodles, thus the name (gyuu – beef). Tastes very good, in my opinion, especially if you're cold, down on money and have a scary ghost on your tail. ^_^  
  
Suffixes –san, -kun, -sama, -chan = Oh, you know what these mean, don't you? I'm not planning on dropping them, as I find they are necessary for right characterization. I don't know about you, but the thought of "Mister Tatsumi" makes me feel uncomfortable. C'mon, say it out loud. Now doesn't that make you think of a horrible, dubbed version of Yami no Matsuei? O_o  
I promise that you won't find too many –chans, though. It's so overused, I start forgetting what its original meaning is.  
  
Bon = it's "bouya" (boy or boyish person) in Kansai accent. In case you don't know, Watari speaks very, very thick Kansai accent. I love Kansai accent, and this goes with the proper characterization thing I mentioned above, so it stays put. You just don't hear Watari calling Hisoka anything else in the anime, and not in the manga, either, as far as I know (although I didn't really pay attention. Correct me if I'm wrong, okay?). By the way, if I wrote Kizuna fics, I'd also make Masa call Kai "bon" all the time, for the same reason. Yes, I know Kansai accent. I was sorely tempted to write Watari speaking fangirl Kansai Japanese. I didn't, because just like fangirl Japanese in general, it would've been pointless. Somebody hand me a pistachio for managing to resist the call of the Dark Side. ^-^  
  
Thank you. Now enjoy the story, if you still can, after this huge commentary. I hope no one got crushed under it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Chapter One: Repentance  
  
  
Such a simple job. I could almost hear Tatsumi saying, 'If you can't handle stuff like this, I'll pretend you're not from our office' when he briefed us this morning. Sounded like the usual go-there-and-bring-back-the-tortured-soul stuff. I could just see the paperwork. Oh man, paperwork even after I'm dead! What else can go wrong? I never really want to complain to him, however, since he kind of reflects it right back. It's not Tatsumi's fault the business is slow. And I suppose he didn't invent bureaucracy either, though sometimes he acts in a way that gives the thought the benefit of doubt.  
  
So, an easy job, he tells us, go there and knock yourselves out. You told me you wanted work, any work. I looked up from my piece of raspberry pie (too much filling) and tried my best to glare at Hisoka. Was the kid a work-a-holic? Mental note: he's hanging around Tatsumi too much.  
  
"What?" he had the nerve to ask.  
  
"I need to take you out more." I proceeded to glare at him, though I suspect I looked more like a disgruntled bulldog than a scolding older brother. Have to practice on that.  
  
"You had something else to do?" Hisoka inquired, a rhetorical question which I didn't bother to answer, instead taking another bite of my raspberry pie. Then I noticed that half of it had mysteriously disappeared and saw the door flung closed after Watari, the sly devil, and forgot about Hisoka in my quest for pie.  
  
  
We got going as ordered, and I did my best to act grumpy for being pulled to the other side of the country when I was still having trouble recovering from our last case. A couple of hellish days on a ship with a mysterious murderer and Muraki, which then proved to be the one and the same, surprise surprise. I would've needed a real cruise after that one. It really wore me out. Not to mention Hisoka. I've never seen him break into tears before. He was so violently crushed after Tsubaki-hime's death that I feared he would do something dangerous, in that state of mind. I've kept an eye on him ever since. The kid has a dramatic streak that could make him, I don't know, self-destructive or something. It's my place to see that he won't go over the edge. The place I seemed to take the moment they assigned him as my partner. It's okay with me. I guess I've always wanted to take care of someone younger than me. Gives me a certain sense of repentance.  
  
Hisoka isn't really big on conversation, so I settle with silently watching him as he stares out of the window of the train. I think he's falling asleep. I want to tell him to go to sleep, but we'll be in our destination in ten minutes.   
  
Stretching my legs, I turn my eyes away and try to concentrate on work. I should've checked out the timetable of professor Harvey, the gaijin who seems to have his Japanese wife's ghost following him, before we left. When we arrive at his place, it'll be about 7 PM and he'll most likely be home, which will make it nearly impossible to sneak into his house and look for the letters that tie his wife to him. She wrote her husband a letter, to tell him how she hated the way he treated her, how she felt she died every time he hit her. He never found the letter. But he wrote his own, to apologise, which he meant to bury with his wife so that she might forgive him in the afterlife. He was too much of a coward. The letter was never finished. It pains him, and it pains his poor wife.  
  
That much we've gathered on the case. Now only thing that remains is to capture the vengeful ghost, find the letters and burn them to free them both, the hero and heroine of yet another tragedy, another story of death. Sometimes this work gets so repetitive.  
  
Hisoka is asleep now, his breathing even. He's leaning his cheek against the window, slumped on his side. Poor kid. I guess he hasn't got much sleep lately. I hate to think I have to wake him up soon.  
  
  
I hear a cheerful female voice announcing that the train is now arriving at our destination. I nudge Hisoka, and he rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, and we step out to the evening twilight of the city. The air is clean, however, and there's not that much noise. We're in the rich district.  
  
"Ready to brave Harvey's ghost wife?" I ask and shoot a wide smile at the still yawning Hisoka.  
  
"As long as I can get to sleep after it," he mutters and starts walking.  
  
It's probably a lost cause, but I ask anyway.  
"You haven't got much sleep after the last job, have you?"  
  
He looks straight ahead, although I'm sure he sees nothing interesting there.  
  
"Yes. ...No. Why?"  
  
"I'm just worried."  
  
"I'll be fine. Look, isn't that the one we're looking for?" He points at a street sign. Good save.  
  
"I think so. You still think we should go talk to this Harvey guy?"  
  
The idea discomforts me a little. Harvey most likely expects his guests to speak English and I've never been too good at linguistics.  
  
"I can do the talking." Hisoka replies, apparently reading my mind. "Maybe I could pose as a Psychology student. I already know what I want to ask him."  
  
How did he know Harvey is a professor of Psychology? The kid's magic, I'm telling you. I mean, even beside the obvious. I nod and smile. Smiling is easy when he once again proves how well he can read me.  
  
"Good. I'll check out the house while you keep him busy. Then we'll go eat something, contact the office and you'll get your sleep. How does that sound?"  
  
"Don't take any chances," he warns me, and a flash of leaf-green eyes tells me he's serious. "We have plenty of time to come by tomorrow when he's at the university."  
  
"Yes, of course," I say and laugh, "don't worry about me. You just do your part, and I'll do mine."   
  
  
We separate a block away from the house. Hisoka heads to the door, and I circle behind the house. One flying leap and I land on the roof, making as little noise as I can. I peek down over the edge of the roof. The window below is open and when I hop on the windowsill, the breath of air I make sends a few papers flying on the desk in front of the window. The room is quite big, but the bookshelves covering its walls and the piles of maps and papers on the floor make it look stuffed and small. Bingo, this looks like a study. I dive inside and start going through the drawers and books. If only the old trick would work and pushing a certain book would open a secret locker...  
  
The door to the room is ajar, I suddenly realise and pause in my searching. I sneak to put my ear to it, just to make sure. I hear someone talking downstairs. Good, I'm safe. Better not close the door; this way I can hear if someone is coming. I attack the boring-looking books again, checking if there's a secret hiding place behind them. After shuffling half of the books and maps out of the way and putting them a-right again, I become convinced that this isn't the way to find the letters. Suppose Harvey's wife put hers in some place only he knew? Behind her photograph, or something? I turn my gaze back to the desk. Unfortunately, there are no photos on it, and the shelves cover all the walls, so no mysterious paintings either. I open all the drawers once more, just to prove that there's nothing attached to their walls. I even check under the desk, but find only dust. Right. Time to check the other rooms. Maybe his bedroom proves to be more -  
  
  
A soft thump, like someone trying to sneak but stubbing their toe on something. I spin around, reaching for an ofuda, but see nothing. I walk over to the door, and, just in case, listen if I can hear someone outside, spying on me. There doesn't seem to be anyone there, though. Whew. The soft murmur can still be heard from downstairs; Hisoka's got his act going quite well. Okay; I better hurry up and get to mine. The door handle is cold against my sweating palm as I grab it. Why am I so nervous? It's like I can almost feel someone's presence, but not quite. Could the yuurei be somewhere in the vicinity without me noticing? I pull at the door, but it apparently opens outward. I push at it, but it still doesn't open. Come to think of it, this door was ajar a moment before. And it's a heavy door, I'm certain no air current coming from the window could have shut it. What...?  
  
I lean down and peek through the keyhole after soundlessly removing the key, wondering if the door is stuck or if there's someone blocking it. Then it dawns to me. The door is locked. And the key is here, so that means it was locked *from inside*.  
  
I spin around but of course see nothing; yet someone must be in the room with me. The key trembles in my hand. How could I not hear it turned? How can I not sense the yuurei's presence even now that I know it's here? Maybe it's not a yuurei, then. A Western ghost? That would explain why I can't gauge its presence or powers. Under some other circumstances, I would say that it's quite interesting; that a Japanese woman would love her British husband so much she actually turned into a gaijin ghost. Now I just want to find a way to get rid of it. This is beyond Hisoka and my abilities; we need help from the Western department. My kekkai might not work against it, but I squeeze the ofuda in my hand, just to feel that I have some control of the situation. The air in the room feels thick and I'm almost panting. It feels like it's warmer in here than before.  
  
A sudden change in the air; there's a flash of orange colour, a sense of movement, like a silent wind passing through the room. I start chanting the magic incantation under my breath as the ghost takes a more and more visible form. I back down against the door. I'm not going to let this ghost get to Hisoka and Harvey. So far it has its back to me; now I can see the poor dead soul in all its current form. The woman is still see-through, but I could count each carefully embroidered chrysanthemum on the dressing gown it wears. It - or should I say she - has her brown hair put up on a messy bun, and it appears she is leaning over the desk, as if arranging the papers, murmuring under her breath. She seems so life-like, if you ignore the transparency. Different from Japanese ghosts, who have been turned into monsters by their hatred. Somehow her life-like appearance makes it all the more creepy. As I stand there, behind my kekkai, hoping she won't notice me, she suddenly straightens and turns around. What chills my blood in this lonely, slumped figure is that her mouth is slightly open and a mixture of blood, saliva and vomit runs down her chin, dripping on the floor and disappearing. All of a sudden, she starts making pained, strangled noises, like a person who is trying to cough but is not quite able to do it. She takes a step towards me, although I can't see her feet.  
  
'Stay back', I warn her, faintly recalling that sometimes Western ghosts will communicate with living souls. Maybe another dead soul wearing a mortal body won't be an exception. 'I am not the one you are looking for. I'm here to help you.'  
  
She doesn't show any sign of having heard me. Her almost maniacal eyes are fixed on me, and I have a feeling she is here for one reason only: to hunt down her husband. I can't feel her hatred as I would were she a yuurei, but she doesn't seem to know anything but bitter revenge. The rivulet of sweat that travels down my temple now feels cold; the sudden heat wave is replaced by a freezing wind that makes me shiver. I realise my breath is misting, and that gives me quite a scare.  
  
'*Stop*!' I finally blurt out in English, my voice wavering. I've encountered terrifying creatures during my 70 years of work as a shinigami, but this cold - this mindless, numbing cold - is somehow one of the worst. Why am I still here? Why haven't I already leaped to the window?  
  
The realisation strikes me like a freezing hand that grips my heart. *I can't*. My feet don't move. A moment of panic, and then I stand frozen, and can only watch as my kekkai fades away, useless. The ofuda slips from my hand to the floor, and I barely notice it. My hands are getting numb with cold, and very heavy, and she's getting closer, and there is *absolutely nothing* I can do, I realise with blatant horror.  
  
Then, for a fleeting second, I feel a chill so cold it burns, and I get so numb I can't feel any part of myself. The last flutter of consciousness speaks of cold fingers on my throat, and then it vanishes.  
  
I disappear into darkness.  
  
  
~ ~ ~ 


	2. Echoes

Chapter Two: Echoes  
  
  
It takes me half an hour to find a damn phone. I told Tatsumi-san it would be wise to invest in at least one mobile phone, but apparently money's a bit tight right now. As it has been for years.   
  
The phone box is located in a corner of the park; at least not completely in plain sight. I have to rest a while to catch my breath before starting to look for change. It takes considerable effort to remain invisible and block away nasty visions I'm getting from Tsuzuki's mind; I'm simply out of energy, so I turn myself and Tsuzuki visible. I doubt no one sees us anyway, it's a rich district and around eight o'clock, everyone's home eating dinner. As I'd like to be.   
  
I let Tsuzuki fall down on the bench that is located a few metres away from the box and take a deep breath, glad to be rid of the horrible flashes of a dead woman's face as she approaches, of cold fear that pierces my mind. Thank the gods Tsuzuki's unconscious; the feelings and visions are blurry at best. He slumps on one side, his cheek meeting the dirty wooden surface. My brow is damp with sweat when I brush hair from my eyes. Tsuzuki's so very heavy and limp and cold.   
  
I told you. I told you not to take any chances, and what do you of course go ahead and do?   
  
Harvey's seen us now, and so has the yuurei - no, not yuurei; something else, but very dead nonetheless. I can still feel her eyes burning in my mind, but thank every higher power there is she didn't get to touch me. With all that hatred in her eyes alone, the flood of her feelings could've killed me. I feel a shiver go down my spine, and I hug myself to keep the cold fear away. There's no way we can go back now, hell, we're lucky if Harvey doesn't send the police after us. I'm too tired to concern myself with the matter. We screwed up, totally, but at least I managed to... at least we're here now.  
  
  
My fingers are shaking when I fish coins from my pocket. Now to inform the office - they'll send someone to deal with that ghost woman. They'd also better send someone who knows what to do about Tsuzuki, because I have no idea. He's cold all over and hardly breathing, and I can't make his eyes stay closed. It looks creepy, and I try to avoid looking at his face. I'm not shaking because I'm scared. It's because I'm hungry, and worried, and have had to practically carry Tsuzuki at least three blocks from Harvey's house.  
  
A hundred yen. This'll do. I leave Tsuzuki in his slumped position and go to the box to make the call.  
  
I listen to the dialing tone for what seems like ages. Seconds creep by like hours, and it must be minutes before I finally convince myself that no one is going to answer and hang up, not bothering to take my money back. There must be some emergency situation, and everyone's out taking care of it, thinking that we won't have any trouble with our ridiculously easy assignment. Great. Just great...  
  
I let myself fall down on the bench next to Tsuzuki. I'll just rest a minute and then... haul him up and to a hotel somewhere, at least I'll get him inside and somewhere where it's warm. Maybe this'll just pass, and he'll wake up and ask for shortcake like nothing's happened. I must hope so. Hope is one of the few things I have at the moment.  
  
My musings are interrupted when Tsuzuki suddenly falls down from his sitting position and slumps sideways, his head landing first on my shoulder and then sliding down to rest on my thigh. I jump a little at the contact, and gasp at the sudden flash of confusion and fear that echoes from Tsuzuki's mind to mine, threatening to flood over my own thoughts. He's fighting inner ghosts now, and his body feels like it's frozen stiff. Luckily he's facing away from me, so that I don't have to see those staring cold eyes. And Tsuzuki's eyes are usually so *warm*...  
  
"Okay," I say aloud, to focus my thoughts back on the situation at hand. "Let's move out. Come on – "  
  
I sneak my hands under his arms and pull him up, then throw his other arm over my shoulders. He's still heavy, but I can manage. The bus stop I saw on our way here - it was not far away. We'll make it.  
  
  
On the bus I go through Tsuzuki's pockets to find the office credit card. It's for emergency cases, and this one really counts as one. Near the stop where I decide to get off I find a phone box with a phonebook and go through the nearby hotels and motels. Tatsumi-san will never let me hear the end of it if I choose even a moderately expensive place, so I settle on a cheap guest house that's located not far away. The neighbourhood looks a little shady, but at least no one looks at me funny when I half carry Tsuzuki through the darkening streets.   
  
The man behind the desk doesn't ask me anything when I ask for a room for two. I specify that I want a room with two beds and he quickly swipes the key he offered to me from my hand and gives me another with a weird look I don't particularly like.  
  
"Do you want me to call a doctor?" he asks, pointing meaningfully at the still unconscious Tsuzuki.  
  
"That's not necessary," I stammer, forcing my exhausted brain to think up something. "M-my cousin drank too much, he'll be alright in a minute."  
  
"I see," the man slowly nods, not believing a word I say. "Well, I wish you a good night, then. Please keep in mind that the room should be empty at 10."  
  
"Where is the phone?" I ask, straining my muscles to keep Tsuzuki from crumbling to the floor. "I must order some food."  
  
"The phone is over there round the corner, but I can make the order for you while you settle in," the man says, and suddenly he doesn't seem all that bad. Actually that offer just made him one of my best friends.  
  
"Thank you," I say wholeheartedly, and give him my last yen coins. They won't buy me a feast, but anything warm will do at this point.  
  
  
The room is small but clean, with two futon beds placed on either side of it and a nightstand between them. On the other side of the room there's a small shelf; nothing else fits in the room. I let Tsuzuki fall down on the other futon and practically fall right on my butt on the floor, exhausted. Finally, quiet. He must be having some ugly dreams. The same hazy visions over and over again...  
  
I throw my denim jacket somewhere and flop down on the other futon, resting my eyes for a bit. When did I last have a good night's sleep? Feels like it was ages ago. I could sleep for a year... no, no I couldn't. Food, first. And Tsuzuki. I open my eyes and turn my head to get a look at his unmoving form, slumped there on his back in the exact same position I left him. What kind of partner am I? He's hardly breathing and I'm worrying about my lack of sleep. It's a matter of work ethics, for one thing; he watches my back and I watch his. When it fails, it's up to the one who's left standing. Which is mostly Tsuzuki, now that I come to think of it. I get up on my hands and knees and crawl over to him.  
  
That haunted look is heart-wrenching. Tsuzuki never looks like that; he's always hopeful, always has a glint in his eye, no matter what. It used to puzzle me before I understood it wasn't just a way of blocking off the evils of this world but also something that came naturally for him. That he never smiles a fake smile, or feigns optimism. It's become a slogan for him: he's always serious. To the point of being obsessed, sometimes, but no one's perfect. That, and he's also a terrible tease sometimes. I think he'd like to be sort of a big brother to me. Yeah right. One naive, slack-off big brother who could just sit around gobbling cakes all day...  
  
I should get the trenchcoat off, at least. I mean, I can't just let him lie there, practically frozen, and do nothing. I wince at the thought of having to touch him and be attacked by the fear and visions, but it can't be helped. Surprisingly, when I lay one tentative hand on his shoulder, I sense nothing. Finally there's peace in his mind, or so I hope, at least. I lift him up enough to slip the trenchcoat off his shoulders and take it off, tossing it somewhere. After a bit of hesitation, I do the same to the suit jacket. It feels kind of awkward doing this while he's unconscious - not that it wouldn't if he was *awake*! - but he can't very well sleep in his jacket, can he, and besides, it'd be all wrinkled when he woke up...  
  
I'm making excuses, for who? No one would question me here, there's only Tsuzuki and it takes some effort to get him angry. Only Tsuzuki. I hastily turn my eyes away - what's all this willy-nilly about? - and take off his shoes, then pull the covers over him. He would do the same for me. Actually he would do everything he could, he always does. I suppose if it was me lying on my back, frozen and staring into space, he would've already called every damn division of Enma-Chou and managed to get us home somehow. He takes everything so seriously.   
  
My fingers find his and lace through them, painfully aware of the cold that radiates from them. Tsuzuki takes care of me. No one's ever done so much. And he does it without asking for anything in return. That's one of his finer qualities, one that even sometimes makes me forget he's such a glutton and foolishly reckless.  
  
Suddenly I feel my cheeks starting to grow hot. What is this? Why am I embarrassed, as if caught doing something I shouldn't have been doing? It was all true. And yet... those are truths I've never told anyone, not me or anyone else. Tsuzuki's hand feels so cold in mine, and I squeeze it hard, to feel the blood still flowing in his veins. Maybe I should tell him sometimes that I appreciate what he does, for me and for everyone around him. I never give him any credit. It's the least I could do...  
  
  
A soft knock on the door. I jump up on my feet and go open it. The man - seemingly the owner and only employee - is standing at the door.  
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I just wanted you to know that I ordered some gyuudon for you, they'll be here in a moment. Would you like to have a cup of tea while you're waiting? Some other guests just boiled some water in the kitchen, and they say there's plenty of it."  
  
"That would be great, thanks," I nod my head and try to pull the sides of my mouth up for a smile. Tea, that's a good idea. That'll warm Tsuzuki up when he wakes up. He'll wake up soon. I know it. I bite my lower lip, but stop at the kitchen door when I realise it'll start bleeding if I continue. Tsuzuki will wake up soon, and that's the end of it!  
  
  
When I return to the room, and look at Tsuzuki lying there, still not having moved an inch, something very unusual happens. My chest tightens and I realise it's pity that seems to momentarily stop my heart from beating, raw sympathy I don't remember feeling for so long. I'm afraid. I've never seen anything like this happen to anyone. Who knows what those Western ghosts might do to a shinigami? It hurts to know so clearly that there is very little I can do, no, nothing at all. To be unable to help someone who's always been able to help me.   
  
I gulp down a lump in my throat and go to put the steaming mug on the nightstand. Maybe I could try making him gulp down the hot liquid, even if he's not awake. There must be something I can do. Must be. And yet, I feel so useless and wretched right now that I can't think up what it might be, so I just clutch his hand in mine again. It's all I dare to do. Actually, what I'd really like to do would be to crawl next to him and lend him some of my own body heat. Not that it might work, but there's nothing else I can give him.  
  
For long moments, I just sit there, head hung and fingers shakily stroking Tsuzuki's cold hand. I must look like I'm mourning. Tsuzuki certainly would pass for a corpse. He hasn't warmed up at all, despite the comfortable room and the thick blanket covering him. I bit my poor lip again when a wave of despair washes over me, and suddenly my eyes mist over. I'm so useless! So *fucking* useless! I can't even keep my partner alive, but he gives me a *life*, keeps me from slipping into the dark memories of the past. I let his hand fall to the floor and rub my eyes before a tear manages to escape. Tsuzuki doesn't need my tears, I have to keep my head clear, think of something, something...  
  
Then I suddenly notice it. Tsuzuki is still lying there on his back, but his head has turned to one side, and his eyes are closed. His whole expression has changed; he now appears to be in deep sleep. Hope flutters in my chest at the sight. Now he looks like Tsuzuki again, and his eyes aren't staring at some horrors unseen. His hair is sticking to his sweaty brow, and I get the strangest thought that he's *melting*. My hand flies to touch his face on its own accord, and yes, his cheek feels warmer. I brush the hair off his face and watch him for a moment, a secret smile spreading on my face. The relief allows my own sleepiness to crawl back in, and I stifle a yawn. I better get ready for bed before that food arrives, so that I can just eat and then go straight to sleep. I take off my blue jeans and socks, and for a while consider leaving the t-shirt on, but then decide against it - it's warm enough in the room, and I have to wear this shirt tomorrow as well. I hazard a glance at Tsuzuki, who looks exactly the same as a second ago, but I feel oddly self-conscious nevertheless. When I turn away, I can just barely hear a soft sigh. He's starting to breathe normally.   
  
The owner stops by to give me my change and food, and I attack it like I've never seen food before. It would be pointless to leave any for Tsuzuki, since it'll be cold if I don't eat it now, so I gobble it all down and then retreat to my own futon, somehow unable to get my eyes off Tsuzuki, waiting for further signs of awakening. Seeing none, I finally let my eyes slip shut, and before I know it, I'm sleeping more soundly than I've slept for years.  
  
  
~ ~ ~ 


	3. Coldburn

Chapter Three: Coldburn  
  
  
I'm alone.  
  
I'm wandering through the streets of Nagasaki, the familiar streets I've strolled along so many times I could find my way with my eyes   
closed. It's a perfect day; the sun is shining brightly, people are chattering and laughing and eating ice cream, and I have all the time   
in the world.   
  
It's not until I stop by an ice cream stand that I realise something is wrong. The man selling the ice cream looks at me, with indifferent   
eyes, and then ignores me completely. When I try to get his attention again, he pretends I'm not even there. People push and shove to get   
past me, and finally I give up and walk away. I realise I feel even the most forceful pushes as mere brief, cold touches; it seems like I   
have a shell that prevents anything from really getting to me. I know there is a road under my feet, but the sun-warmed bricks and even the   
grass at the side of the road feel like cold, hard stone.  
  
I swim through the city, and everyone flows by me, their touches distant and eyes cold. After a while I see the colours have started to fade  
too, along with the real sensations, and everything is painted in dull, cold tones, and the sun is the colour of pale moon. People's faces   
turn from uncaring to disdainful. Instead of hurrying past me, they stop and stare, their eyes full of unmasked contempt, and even the brief,  
cool touches are suddenly denied to me. I don't deserve them. I disgust them.   
  
I can hardly feel the ground under my feet, and struggle to find something to grab, something that is real and there and proves that I can   
still touch...   
  
And now I truly am alone.  
  
I'm running. How is it possible to do something so *evil*, so wrong, that would make them treat me like this? I don't know what I've done,   
but I'm *sorry*, I'm so very, very sorry, and I wish they would let me pay for my sins. But even that is denied to me, and now I'm screaming,  
just to hear a voice other than an accusation, and the cold numb feeling is spreading ---  
  
Someone! There must be - it can't be - Hisoka!  
  
And when I see the hate on his face it's somehow the worst, the bitter accusation. I fall on my knees, finding no reason to try to get away   
anymore. The cold wind reaches me, the accusing voices, the scornful eyes. I let it wash over me, unable to do anything to stop it. It washes  
away all that I am, everything. All essence seems to flee me... nothing stays behind. And now everything is just an ice blue blur...  
  
  
I gasp for breath. C-cold...  
  
White ceiling over me. My hand is on my brow, and I move the fingers instinctively, and they are shaking slightly, but definitely not frozen.  
There's a blanket covering my shivering body, and I feel somewhat numb. I have no strength for much anything, and I close my eyes. I'm cold.  
  
I concentrate on just breathing for a long while. A horrible dream... not much more so than most of my dreams, come to think of it, but... I  
don't know if I'm awake yet, and that makes me so very scared. I may be cold, but I-I'm not alone, am I? Not so terribly alone... I can still  
feel, and touch, and there is still something I can do...  
  
Gathering all my strength, I sit up and push the blanket off. It did little to warm me, anyway. This cold comes from inside. What is this   
place, and where is everyone? Where is Hisoka? I'm still in the mortal world. How did I come to this place? Everything is looks white and   
cold, and I can't hear anything except my own ragged breaths...  
  
And then it strikes me. I haven't woken up yet.  
  
I struggle against the silence, the emotionless calm that surrounds me.   
  
The mists shatter. The cold flees. I scream, although I have no voice. A sudden pain pierces my hand, a real and tangent feeling that I've   
already almost forgot existed. It's burning me, as real and true as the sudden feel of blood flowing in my veins again. The warmth spreads   
from the tips of my fingers, rushing through my veins, searching for my heart. I feel myself sighing... or perhaps it is just the sound of   
blood boiling. It hurts, yes, it burns like hellfire, but it's so much better than the empty cold.   
  
Someone is near.  
  
I'm not alone.  
  
  
~~~  
  
Why yes, I'm depressed. However did you guess? This wasn't one of my best, but it had to be written. Chapter Four will be posted within a week, so stay tuned. 


	4. Shivers

Chapter Four: Shivers  
  
  
  
"Here, bon." Watari offers me a new towel. He doesn't look weary from the long journey or from working around the clock. As a matter of fact, he looks almost excited. He leans his hands on his knees and looks at Tsuzuki. "Still no change in his condition, I take it."  
  
I shake my head and place the towel on Tsuzuki's brow. He's been like this, *melting*, ever since I woke up. I would say he's burning with fever, but he still feels cold.  
  
Watari walks over to the desk and opens his laptop. "Actually I kind of suspected it."  
  
I get up and walk over to peek at the screen. "Did you find out something about that ghost?"  
  
Watari's glasses are reflecting the screen as he clicks open a file. "The Western Department is still struggling with the case, but so far, no process. The police are at Harvey's house, which hampers our investigation." He gives me a quick look and one lock of blond hair falls over his eyes. "Bon, you have to understand that though the Western Department is pretty powerful, and they probably could end this matter with a mere snap of a finger, they can't risk bringing the soul back to where it belongs, because as far as we know right now, it could take Tsuzuki with it."  
  
"But how can a Western ghost capture a shinigami's soul?" I demand. I'm being unfair, I know, because Watari doesn't know it any better than I do. But he always has theories.  
  
This time is no exception. He starts frantically typing something. "Well, there is the possibility that it was a new type of yuurei, a Westernized yuurei, if you catch my meaning. Its deep love and hatred for a gaijin altered its shape and powers. Now, what might result from that kind of union ---" An old picture of a pale nun fills the screen. Watari taps the side of the keyboard. "Maybe it gave the ghost the ability to affect Japanese immortals."  
  
"I know that picture," I tonelessly tell him and turn my back, "it's the ghost of the Borley Mansion."  
  
"Borley Oratory," Watari corrects me. "It haunted the place for decades before its bones were found and finally put to rest. I wish we were facing something as simple as that here. Harvey's wife doesn't seek salvation or rest. It seeks revenge."  
  
"I don't think so," I say, thinking aloud, the thought just popping into my head. "I think it's gone mad from its hatred. It doesn't know what it is doing."  
  
"Like a yuurei, right? But something holds it." I feel Watari's eyes on me as he speaks. "The letters."  
  
I spin around. "So what are we doing here? Shouldn't we be searching for them? What the hell did Tatsumi-san mean by 'staying put and waiting for more orders'?!" I fling my fist to the wall and grit my teeth. "No one knows what that thing is, how could they give us any further instructions?" I growl, my both hands clenched into shaking fists.  
  
"Bon!" Watari gets up and hurries to me. I shake off his hands when he attempts to take a hold of my shoulders. "Bon, calm down. We will find a way, but we have to investigate these things carefully before acting. You wouldn't risk Tsuzuki's soul, would you?"  
  
I sniffle and hastily wipe my nose to my sleeve, then realise that my cheeks are wet. I'm crying, and I hate it. Watari puts his hand over my head and gives my hair a gentle tussle.  
  
"Tatsumi knows what he's doing. He called for the needed reinforcements and is currently investigating the meaning and placement of the letters. Our job right now is to guard Tsuzuki and take care of him."  
  
"Yes, I *know*!" My voice sounds irritated and childish to my own ears. I hiccup and continue, hoping I won't sound as teary. "But there is no point in just watching and... not being able to do anything."  
  
I'm of no use to Tsuzuki this way.  
  
Watari just sighs and runs a hand through his hair. We stand there in silence, Watari trying to find something to say and me roughly wiping the tears from my eyes and cheeks, trying to get a hold of myself. I don't usually lose my patience like this.  
  
I sit down on the floor next to Tsuzuki's futon and, almost against my will, look at him. His eyes have opened again, the warm purple colour paled into a dull shade of navy blue. I thought he was getting better. I thought he would wake up, but no, it's worse now than before. He no longer fights. He just lies there. I don't feel anything but cold and sadness radiating from him when I reach out my hand to close those unseeing eyes that I don't know. They will open again, I know, but then I'll just close the lids again. Tsuzuki's moving slightly, which is a surprise, even though he's just shivering a little.  
  
"Do shinigami suffer from hypothermia?" I wonder aloud, because he looks so cold right now, the shivering somehow making it even more poignant. It's a sharp reminder that he's still alive, still in a mortal body, and the danger he's in seems all the more severe.  
  
"It is not common," Watari replies, and I hear him typing something on his laptop. "But we must be ready to expect anything right now."  
  
  
That does it then. I can't bear to see Tsuzuki like this, even his eye colour turning icy. I tuck the covers under his chin and then fetch mine, too, and throw them over my shivering partner.   
  
"I'm going to get some tea," I mutter as I open the door. "We have to get him to drink something."  
  
Watari murmurs something back, I bet he didn't even hear me. When he's investigating something, it's no hope trying to talk to him. He'll return back to us once he's found something, which in this case might not be much. Why do I get the feeling that we're all just sitting around, pondering endlessly over things while nothing really gets done? I rub my eyes and bite my lip, hard. Watari makes me so mad right now. When he heard that Tsuzuki is down and in need of help, he came over and started working, like this is a normal case, and what's worse, he seems *happy* to do it. Sure Tsuzuki is turning a new shade of blue each minute and he's got his soul taken by a ghost of some kind which no one seems to know nothing about, but hey, it's something new. Something *fucking* interesting to poke at and ponder over while the last signs of any kind of life flee him.  
  
That's not what I'm going to do. I'm going to bring my partner back, and I can't do that by standing around.  
  
I fill the cup with steaming tea and return to the room, my pace faster and my back straightened. I will do something, I have to. Watari is still working on his computer when I close the door behind me. I kneel down at Tsuzuki's side and put the cup on the floor for a while. I have to raise him up some, so I snake my arms around his chest and pull him up, then settle a few pillows behind his back to support him. His eyes have closed, but I know it won't last. He feels so cold I swear I can see frost in his hair when I tilt his head up slightly to make him swallow the tea. I've never done this before, and feel kind of awkward when I bring the cup to his lips, but I seem to do something right because I manage to get him to swallow the liquid. My hands are shaking, tired for having to reach so far and I scoot closer to make myself more comfortable, resting my other leg on the outside of Tsuzuki's thigh and the other between his legs. This is better. Sip by sip, the tea disappears between his lips.   
  
  
I watch him closely to see any kind of reaction. I swear I can see some colour returning to his face, to his lips particularly, and that gives me some satisfaction and relief, at least. I'm so happily surprised that the last drop of tea escapes down Tsuzuki's chin when my hand sways a little. Muttering a weak curse, I put the cup back on the floor and my other hand flies to catch the drop, in vain. I watch it disappear down his collar, leaving a wet trace on the pale skin.   
  
I stare at that spot of wet skin and all of a sudden, find myself thinking strange thoughts. Thoughts that I hardly recognize as my own, because I would – I would never think – I would never admit to think…   
  
I swallow and hastily wipe the liquid off with my sleeve. Did I just - want to lick it off my partner's neck? That's just – what am I thinking, at a time like this? This is Tsuzuki, Tsuzuki means *a partner*, Tsuzuki means work. Stuff like that is for some weird midnight fantasies. Not for now, when I have to make sure some ghost is not going to steal Tsuzuki's soul.  
  
Still…  
  
It's not like I can deny it to myself. I mean, sometimes… thinking about him. In an obscure way, you know, the way fantasies are… it's not really him, and it's not really me, in those, it's just my imagination getting out of hand. It's kind of normal, isn't it? Compared to everything else in my life, in my death, it is the most normal thing I can think of. Not like I'm gay or anything just because I sometimes think that Tsuzuki's, well, sweet. More than that, of course, but… I'm never going to tell. Mostly because it's kind of hazy to me, too. I wouldn't be able to give him a straight answer even if he asked, even if I wanted him to know. I just… wouldn't. Maybe I'm scared.  
  
"I'm scared," I say aloud, my voice low and raw, and know that it's true. Tsuzuki looks like he's listening, silently. I grab his hand in mine, and awkwardly try to gather him closer. Finally I push off the pillows that I put to hold him up and replace them with my own body, and he's lying in my arms, and I want him there. "You hear that, Tsuzuki?" I mumble, catching his hand before it falls from his lap to the floor. "You've made me scared."   
  
I hold his hand, tightly, almost forcefully - *flow, blood, dammit, flow through those veins and warm him up* - and finally feel satisfied. This is all that matters. I don't need much else if I have him. This is all I can give, and finally it feels it's enough.  
  
  
"…on?"  
  
What was that? I takes two attempts to drag my eyelids up enough to see Watari looking at me.   
  
"Bon?" He smiles, cheerfully, and puts his hands on his hips. His owl is sitting on his shoulder, one eye closed but the other peering at me. "Wakie wakie."  
  
I blink my eyes, feeling drowsy. My feet are completely dead, I don't think I can move my toes for an hour or so. I must have fallen asleep while sitting.  
  
And holding Tsuzuki on my lap.  
  
I hastily start shoving him back on the mattress and myself off it, feeling my face grow hot. It doesn't help that Watari is grinning like a pimp, dammit! I stumble on my feet, and Watari offers me his hand.  
  
"I hate to disturb you, you looked so comfortable there," he smiles, actually in a pretty nice, friendly manner. "And I see Tsuzuki is gaining some colour on his face, too."  
  
I arrange the pillows back under Tsuzuki's head, and it's true, he looks very much like himself. No longer pale, and although his eyes are shut, I bet they're not the icy colour anymore. I wish I could touch him and find out if he feels cold, but I can't do something like that with Watari peering down at me. So I straighten up and stretch my arms a little.  
  
"Any news, then?"  
  
"Some." Watari seems a bit tired. I wonder how long I slept, and look past Watari at the window. The curtains are drawn, and there is not a ray of light peeking through them. It must be nightfall – I got a good four hours of sleep.  
  
"Anything on the letters?" I ask.  
  
"Tatsumi's still working on that. He and some other people are at Harvey's mother-in-law's house right now. He said that they found one of the letters." Watari checks his watch, then pets his owl absentmindedly. It seems to have fallen asleep.  
  
"Now, I had to wake you up before people from the Western Department arrive. I got a message from them saying they're heading over here to check on Tsuzuki. I've been brainstorming with them whole night, I think they have a pretty good idea of what we're facing here. Of course, not far from the idea I was developing myself."  
  
"Hold on, all night? What time is it?" I ask, baffled.  
  
Watari stretches his hands, and the owl on his shoulder moves his feet a little, not opening its eyes. "It's seventeen past five in the morning and my fingers hurt from typing! But an emergency is an emergency, right, bon?" And he winks at me.  
  
I feel like hugging him.  
  
He pats my shoulder and starts pushing me out of the door. "You'd better go clean up some. You definitely look like you've slept sitting up. We don't want to give the Western Department a wrong impression of us, do we?"  
  
"How could we? You definitely look like you've spent the night working, as usual."  
  
Watari laughs, and I go over to the small bathroom and wash my face. When I look up at the mirror, I see a puzzled-looking boy with wide eyes and sand-coloured locks of hair hanging over them, dripping wet. I look as if I've cried myself to sleep. I humph and lean down to splash some more ice cold water on my face. 


	5. Awakening

Chapter Five: Awakening  
  
I see movement long before I manage to open my eyes. The shadows flicker past me, dark spots in the yellow light that surrounds me. I can see them through my eyelids, and the movements become so hasty that I start forcing my eyes to open. There is a panicky feel to the air; something is not right. Maybe I'm needed?  
  
The voices return to me, the voices of the real world. I've never been so glad to hear them. I take a moment to just stare ahead (at a window with curtains drawn over it) and thanking all the higher powers there are that I'm back from my dreams. I guess usually in this state people feel they're still partly in the dream; they don't realize whether some memory is real or from a dream they just saw. Maybe they even try to grasp the fleeing memory of the dream; all too often, dreams are completely lost once the dreamer sits up and decides that he's wholly awake.  
  
I wish that would be true for me, too. But I know exactly what my dream was about, and it's wishful thinking that I'm going to forget it once I find the strength to sit up. I know these kinds of dreams. I've had a similar one very often, ever since I died. I know these dreams are not *real*, but they are always about real events, they tell me things that I know are true. The cruelest kind of dreams: the merciless ones that leave nothing hidden.  
  
I slowly start wondering about my current state. Where am I, and how did I come to be here? The last thing I can remember before the dreams is the scornful stare of a dead woman, the stare that says 'I want you dead'. In a fashion, the moment continues. I still feel the same irrational fear, although it's now dulled down into a continuous feeling of unease and helplessness. And cold.  
  
Someone runs past, I can make out the long limbs and blond hair but everything else is too quick for me to grasp. Watari?  
  
Yes, it's his voice that shouts, "Watch out, bon! I'll let you know as soon as I can!" And then, more figures, people I don't recognize, giving one-word comments to each other and then hurrying to the same direction as Watari. A door slams shut. It becomes almost completely silent.  
  
My whole body feels heavy; I attempt to move my fingers and find that they move easily, but shiver. I think I could sit up, even stand up, if I didn't feel this cold. Part of the cold is just the feeling of plain misery that gnaws at me. I feel forlorn, forsaken, outcast. There is no escape, were I to close my eyes again and fall asleep, I'd most likely return to the dream, which would mean worse misery than the one that holds me now. Desperate for comfort but finding none, I close my eyes again and watch parts of the dream flicker past my mind's eye.  
  
"Tsuzuki? Tsuzuki! Are you awake? Don't close your eyes!"  
  
I wince as someone shouts the words almost straight to my ear, and then a shadow falls over my face. Someone is close, looking at me. And I know who it is. A piece of a dream: beautiful green eyes, filled with contempt and accusation. I don't want to see those eyes, that would break me, I know.  
  
"Tsuzuki!" And now I'm shaken, literally, he's grabbed my shoulders and is *shaking* the real world back to my senses.  
  
Oh. Hisoka. I give in. I always do when it's you, did you ever notice that?  
  
His eyes immediately meet mine. He's staring at my face with a look of horror and unbelief that slowly turns into something close to relief.  
  
"Don't do that again," he hisses, seeming out of breath for no reason. "Scare me like that again and I'll - I'll -"  
  
"Hisoka," I manage to whisper, and then swallow. There's a cold lump in my throat, and what would I say to him? Pieces of the dream haunt me as I look at him. Think back. Recollect. "What happened? Where is she?"  
  
Hisoka looks away for a moment. "The ghost's at its mother-in-law's house. After one of the letters, I suppose. The Western Apartment people were just here, and they were really upset and wanted Watari to go help them with the ghost, something about their powers not seeming to get through." He takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes irritatedly. "And just when Watari had finished saying that he thinks we can leave the rest to the very very able Western Apartment. Figures."  
  
I look around the room - for it is a room, a smallish motel room by the looks of it. It is finally all starting to make sense - so what is this nagging feeling that something still needs to be put to right?  
  
"I think she wanted to kill me," rolls off my tongue.  
  
Hisoka glances at me and humphs. "Isn't that obvious? You think she tried to strangle you and freeze you to death because she liked you?"  
  
That was harsh. Even for Hisoka. I think he's on the edge. "But she was strangled herself. So it makes sense, doesn't it?"  
  
"Strangled?" I got Hisoka's full attention with that comment. "What are you talking about? Didn't you read the file Tatsumi-san gave us?"  
  
Oops. I always knew skipping over boring medical details would come back to haunt me.  
  
"She committed suicide. By taking a lethal dose of painkillers."  
  
That makes sense. The trail of vomit on her chin. her body was trying to get rid of the pills, or whatever the medical term for that is. People don't usually start vomiting when they're strangled, now do they? What was I thinking, where did I get that idea, anyway? It feels like someone put it in my head when I wasn't looking.  
  
Wait. Wait a second here. That could be the case.  
  
"Hisoka," I voice the thought, "I don't think it was my idea that Mrs. Harvey was strangled. I think it was her own. She told me how she was killed."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Hisoka snaps. "If Harvey had killed her wife we would have known it. It would've been in the files. Besides, her body showed signs of poisoning, and there was an empty container on the floor of the bedroom where she was found. So what exactly points to strangling?"  
  
I think back, although I'd really rather not. "She was. making these noises in her throat. Gagging noises. I don't know. Maybe it was just in my dream. It was one of worst dreams I've ever had." I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. It doesn't make me feel relaxed at all.  
  
There is a moment of silence.  
  
"Can you sit up?" Hisoka then asks, his voice almost gentle.  
  
I nod. "I think I could, but. I'd rather. rather not."  
  
Hisoka seems to have made up his mind, however. He certainly sounds like it. "Come on, try it. Here." He grabs my shoulders, and then my hands, helping me up. I tense each time he touches me, as though I haven't been touched for ages.  
  
I don't feel particularly weak, not really. Just vulnerable, and cold. Obediently, I scramble up into a sitting position and lean against the wall. I wonder why Hisoka insists on this, though. "Why do you insist? To find a better angle to hit me for making everybody worried?" The humor refuses to return to my voice, and I sound plain miserable, at least to my own ears.  
  
Hisoka looks back at me, and for a second his emerald eyes meet mine before he looks away again, in that self-conscious way he acts most of the time.  
  
"No, you idiot," he says, in a small voice, and throws his arms around my neck.  
  
It is rare that Hisoka does something like this, and I always treasure those moments. Even now, when there's a chill that reaches my heart of hearts, his simple, awkward hug creates enough warmth to make me feel alive again. There have not been many embraces this sincere in my life. Hisoka might have tied himself into knots to keep every trace of his emotions inside of him, tight, tight knots that I can't imagine are good for anyone, but sometimes. Just sometimes, he forgets himself. And I'm happy that he does, because forgetting is sometimes the only way to deal with the past.  
  
I lift up my arms and wrap them around his lithe form, to hold him there, knowing that he is going to let go soon, flushed and self-conscious. No, Hisoka. I need you now, gods, do I need you, to keep the cold at bay. He shifts uncomfortably upon finding that he has to use force to free himself from the embrace that he initiated. Normally, I would let go immediately, make a joke, tease him a bit. Any sign of discomfort from Hisoka and I always do my best to put him to ease. It's the big brother role I have been trying to play as best as I've been able, though not always successfully. The boy's too damn smart, for one thing, too powerful and too professional. And I've come to love him too damn much.  
  
Which is why, oddly enough, I occasionally feel a little distance is good. For our work, anyway, and for Hisoka. I believe, as I believed from the start, that what he needs, what he's never really had, is a friend.  
  
Hisoka sighs a bit and shuffles his hands nervously behind my neck. I can sense the tension in the air. He's waiting for me to pull the usual joke so that he can tell me I'm an idiot and everything can go back to normal. And there is a part of me that points out, mimicking Tatsumi's speech pattern, that I'm dangerously close to going over the 'big brother' line. The vulnerability becomes my weakness now, allowing Hisoka's closeness to affect me wholly and deeply, making it impossible to tuck my feelings into my sleeve and smile that it's all good. It is not. He's not close enough. The sudden *need* to have him close confuses me, but it doesn't make it any less urgent. He's leaning forward, arms around my neck, sitting on his knees beside me. A friendly hug; nothing to impose a closeness too intimate.  
  
*No.*  
  
On sudden impulse, I tighten my hold on him and pull him closer, so that he has to scoot closer or fall down on my lap. At first, he is about to do the latter, letting out a surprised noise.  
  
"Tsuzuki," he gasps, and starts removing his arms from around my neck, "what are you *doing*?" His voice holds more than a little bit of discomfort, mixed in with innocent puzzlement that I so often see underneath all the cynicism.  
  
For just a split second, I wonder exactly the same thing - what am I doing here? Why am I doing this to him, making him uncomfortable? - and then I know the answer. I have to. He's asking for it.  
  
"Shhh," I say, trying to gather him again in my arms as he tries to decide whether to fight or do something else. "Just a moment. Please."  
  
"But I'm. you're." He's blushing, I can hear it from his voice, his words are dripping with embarrassment. Then I see it with my own eyes as he looks up at my face. "Tsuzuki, let go of me, this is really -" And then he suddenly freezes and stares at me in unveiled horror.  
  
"What?" I murmur, the hunger eating at my insides. I'm getting tired of this tag game. Why must he be so stubborn?  
  
As I begin to slide my hand under the boy's shirt, he gasps out a few words. I don't really care.  
  
"Tsuzuki, your eyes, they're ice blue again. Gods, you're not Tsuzuki! Who *are* you?" 


	6. Breakthrough

Author's Note: Sorry I'm late. I assure you it was none of my fault, it's a cruel world, I blame the society, blah blah. I hope the editing works fine now, too. If there's still something weird, tell me. I'm using a Japanese computer that shows things a bit differently. Thanks go to chibiukyou for the nice review, Aino-kaachan for always being so supportive and a lovely little twincest manga called Every Day, Every Night that I found from the used books' store the other day. I guess this chapter was supposed to have more yaoi stuff, but the plot, ah, it just couldn't be left out. Doncha worry, gentle reader. The yaoitic stuff will follow as soon as the boys are both awake and back to their own selves again - which is next chapter.  
  
Wait, was that enough suspense to maintain my position as the Queen of Cliffhangers? XD  
  
****  
  
Chapter Six: Breakthrough  
  
I realize I'm holding my breath. I've seen those eyes stare unseeing into space, but now they are fixed straight at me, and there is hatred in its purest form behind that blatantly dead cold stare. There is no way Tsuzuki would ever look at anyone - at *me* - like that. But then, who.? Right after uttering the question aloud, it's suddenly all too clear what the answer is: the features are all Tsuzuki's, but I've seen Mrs. Harvey's eyes once and the memory is still vivid in my mind.  
  
After staring numbly for a second in surprise and fear, my danger sense kicks in. I gasp sharply at the first feel of cold fingers on my back. This is bad, I have no idea in hell what she is capable of. She's way too close, I need to get away, she's touching me with Tsuzuki's fingers and I can't take it!  
  
"Get away from me!" I think aloud, my voice rising to a panicked shriek. I focus on creating shields, barriers, anything that'll keep my mind safe from hers. It gets harder when I have to struggle to push her - his - hands away. Tsuzuki is bigger than me, and the ghost uses it to her advantage. I'm in a bit of a compromising position at the moment, unable to get on my feet and dangerously close to losing my balance altogether. I try to leap to the side, to slip away from the grasping hands, but the ghost grabs my shirt with a force that I didn't expect at all. Tsuzuki's not that strong, unless. Unless she's using his powers. I'm thrown down, my head meeting the floor with a nasty thump. My legs are still on the mattress, and as the ghost that looks like Tsuzuki starts advancing, I try to kick her away, in vain.  
  
I almost see stars from the forceful strike to my head, and as I struggle to get the ghost off me, I lose concentration. The fingers travel across my chest, painting lines of freezing pain. I try to scramble backwards, to get away, but then the hands grab me in a firmer hold, holding me in place. As I continue to struggle, I hear an angry growl and the ghost tightens her hold, nails burying in my skin. I cry out in pain, and before I manage to block it away, the feelings come crashing in, like a rain of ice.  
  
I feel the loneliness, the endless checking on everything in the house to pass time, talking to the sofa cushions because no one else would listen.  
  
I feel the helplessness, as someone throws me down on the bed and accuses me of things I have never even thought of doing. I feel the small, strong fingers tighten around my throat, painted nails burying into my neck.  
  
Then I feel, like a sudden lash of a whip, a hate so deep it is almost sorrow, the maddening hate and scorn that screams -  
  
"Everything! I gave you *everything*, I cut myself into pieces and fed them to you with my own hands!"  
  
I swear I can actually hear someone screaming, out loud. Where did that voice come from? It sounds familiar somehow.  
  
A sudden feeling of physical pain brings me back to real world - intense, tangible pain, located on my shoulders. I'm pinned down, almost literally. The ghost is keeping me in my place, forcing me down on the floor so hard that I can hear the floor slowly start to give away under me. It takes all my power to hold the ghost's emotions back, to keep them from crushing me now that she's practically forcing them on me. I barely have strength to notice that I'm shivering for the effort, that my shirt is pushed all the way up to my throat and the cold makes goose bumps rise on my skin. My upper body twists, uncontrollably, as the nails dig in deep and start again creeping towards my throat, the ghost now sure that I have no energy left to fight them.  
  
Then, unexpectedly, the voice returns.  
  
"I never thought a bad thought of you, I loved you more than anything! It was not enough, I was not enough - you selfish bastard!"  
  
The voice, now weakened from the previous scream to no more than a hateful hiss, belongs to Tsuzuki.  
  
Through the pain my rational thought whispers, 'It's Mrs. Harvey talking to her husband, it's she hating her husband', but I can see Tsuzuki's lips moving, forming the words, and they hurt just as much as if they were meant for me. Why wouldn't they be? I take him for granted, the one person who cares for me -  
  
No. It's not Tsuzuki. Collect yourself, Hisoka, you're a shinigami, you know weird shit. Concentrate. All you need is a little power, and you can get this monster off of you before she destroys every chance you have.  
  
Just as an idea dawns in my mind, the hands start squeezing my own shirt tighter around my throat. I act immediately, not pausing to ponder if it's going to work, because it's too late for that. I open my eyes, and reach forward, grabbing a hold of Tsuzuki's hair, and at the same time, reach inside of him, for his power, merging it with mine. I have done this before, when he was near death. This isn't much different. Still, the sudden rush takes me by surprise. The thing that looks like Tsuzuki lets out an unworldly howl, and throws me back down on my back, forcefully. No matter. I have the power I need. When the hands start returning to my throat, I push them off, as simple as anything, and only the loud crashing sound as something hits the opposite wall makes me realize just exactly how much power I released.  
  
I sit up, panting, feeling empty and faintly sick. I barely have time to gasp before I realize that making a visible crack on the wall didn't stop the ghost and it's going to counterattack -  
  
And then, seemingly out of nowhere, comes a splash of cold water. I hear a deep voice shout something in a language I don't recognize. A shriek that has nothing to do with Tsuzuki's real voice escapes the thing that looks like him, and it falls on the ground, head landing at my feet. I turn around, shivering, spooked.  
  
There is a man standing at the door, a black-bearded, tall man who is wearing a leather jacket one size too small and dusty black trousers. He looks European, and around his 40s. His arm is still outstretched, and in his hand is a small bottle. There is a grim expression on his face.  
  
"I knew saving a little holy water for later would come in handy. Looks like the dead bastards are all over the place," he then says, in precise, although accented Japanese. He raises an eyebrow and whistles, then pockets the empty-looking bottle. With two steps, he's by my side, and crouches down to look at Tsuzuki, then flashes a quick look back at me.  
  
"Everything alright there, lad? You ought to be glad you're still breathing. These are evil goddamn things we're up against. Holy mother of Christ, how many are there, anyway? Here." He reaches out to help me pull the shirt back down, but I dodge and move away from both him and what looks like Tsuzuki. I can't stand anybody's touch right now, I've never liked it but now I really can't bear it.  
  
The sound of quick footsteps echoes from the hall, and then Watari bursts in the room, the owl flying after him.  
  
"Bon! Bon, gods, bon, are you alright? How is Tsuzuki?" He sits down next to the huge man with a black beard, who is currently straightening Tsuzuki's limp body.  
  
"He looks like he's going to be well enough," the man says, and I'm not sure whether he's talking about me or Tsuzuki. My fingers shake as I quickly pull the shirt down to cover me, wishing I had something bigger I could just wrap into and disappear for a while.  
  
Then Watari looks at me, cheeks flushed from running, and runs a hand through his hair.  
  
"*What* happened here? What's wrong with Tsuzuki?"  
  
"It was Harvey's wife." My voice sounds raspy and weak to my ears. Then, because I just can't hold it back, I pour out all I know. "Watari-san, you have to listen, I tried to block it but I couldn't, I saw her thoughts and Tsuzuki was right, she was murdered, I don't know how or why but I could feel it!"  
  
"Shh, calm down, bon, calm down. It's okay now." Watari pats my thigh, and turns to the man who is still examining Tsuzuki with grim interest. "This gentleman is Allendorf-sensei, the ghost expert from the Western Department. He knows what to do."  
  
"Well, first of all, we need to get this young man here up on his feet," the bearded man says, "and that's just Allendorf, by the way, I'm only a priest when there's need for one."  
  
"Kurosaki Hisoka, Summoning Department," I say in a small voice, and sniffle.  
  
"Charmed," Allendorf says, not looking up. He's started to sprinkle something around Tsuzuki. Sand?  
  
"Bon - did you say Mrs. Harvey was *here*?" Watari looks confused, and more than a little worried.  
  
"Not only *was* she here," Allendorf says with a snort, "she apparently still is. Whatever you did to this young man here certainly wasn't a banishing spell, lad - Kurosaki, was it? Grim name for a young tyke like you - but it knocked him around good and proper. Holy water should keep the soul of the late Mrs. Harvey stunned for another ten minutes or so, so let's see if we can kick her out before she realizes what we're doing."  
  
I feel cold. I grasp Tsuzuki's abandoned cover and pull it over me, clutching it tightly.  
  
Watari's gaze flickers from Tsuzuki to Allendorf. "If Harvey's wife was here all the time - what were *we* fighting against?"  
  
Allendorf shrugs, concentrating on his work. He's formed a circle of sand around Tsuzuki's unmoving body.  
  
"I think I understand," I think aloud, quietly, "and Tsuzuki was right. Mrs. Harvey was murdered, but the murderer wasn't her husband. She was strangled by a woman. I saw the hands. They were small. And the hate she felt - it wasn't all for her husband. She loved him, even after death. It was for her murderer."  
  
"But the information I got from Tatsumi.!" Watari frowns, goes over to his laptop and switches it on. "What about the evidence of suicide? You think her husband, or her killer staged it? The medical record -"  
  
I shake my head. "I haven't figured that out, either. But one thing I do know." I look up at Watari. "The ghost you were facing was the killer."  
  
Watari is silent for moment. Then he bites his lip, looking thoughtful. "Of course. If the killer hated Harvey's wife, she would want to make sure she never got her hands on the letter and go snatch it herself. Good thinking."  
  
"It still doesn't change the fact that bringing this letter to Harvey's wife is probably the only thing that is going to make her forget her anger," I say, excited by the whole process, the feeling that things are getting back on track. "Otherwise she's just going to keep raging and trying to kill her husband, or killer, over and over again."  
  
Watari and Allendorf look at each other, and Watari sighs.  
  
"You see, bon, that is the problem. We thought the ghost we saw at Harvey's mother-in-law's attic was Mrs. Harvey, and figured that since she had found the letter, she should finally be freed."  
  
"You didn't!" I stare incredulously at the two of them. "How could you do something like that? You *destroyed* the only thing that could've sent Harvey's wife away! The only thing that might have given her peace!"  
  
"Now, now, we don't know if it's the *only* thing yet," Allendorf says, his voice slightly offended. "We did it because it seemed like the smartest thing to do at the time. It's my job, don't forget: to destroy the anchor, so that the ship is free to fly. So we burned the letter, and the ghost vanished. How could we have known there was more than one ghost? It was, as it turns out, most unfortunate, but ultimately unavoidable."  
  
I let my gaze drop on the floor. Now what? How are we going to bring Tsuzuki back, and send Harvey's wife where she belongs?  
  
"So this means our work was for nothing." Watari sighs. "We only did the killer a service. I don't think she's gone for good, she's just lurking around the corner, wanting to make sure poor Harvey's wife goes back to being as dead as she meant her to be. As long as Harvey's wife is around, so shall she be, I'm afraid."  
  
Allendorf scratches his beard. "But her ghost was hazy, lacking distinctive characteristics. How are we to find her again?"  
  
"Never mind the killer, what will we do about Harvey's wife?" I almost yell at the man. "She's possessed my partner! I want him back! I'm not sure if he can take it much longer!"  
  
"Watch your mouth, Kurosaki-kun," Allendorf replies sharply, "and use your ears. What I'm trying to do here is to bring him back as soon as possible. I believe I already mentioned as much."  
  
"We have to find the killer, bon. She and Harvey's wife are connected, you know that." I don't know when Watari came over to me, so it makes me jumps a little when his hand falls on my shoulder. He's very serious. "If we want to find her, we have to first find out who she is. You are the only one who has the power to do it. You told me you already did it once."  
  
"No," I reply immediately, "No, Watari-san, I can't do it again. I don't have the strength. You don't know how much it *hurts* -"  
  
"It is going to be different this time," Watari says assertively. "I can't say I'm a professional when it comes to empathy or mind reading, but I know it is different when the subject is unconscious. The ghost is still stunned, now is the chance. Please, bon. If we have to stun the ghost again, it will be another hit on poor Tsuzuki, too. You said it yourself, we don't know how much time we have before his strength fails. We have no time to lose."  
  
I take a deep breath. And think of the state Tsuzuki is in; as if being possessed by a ghost wasn't enough, I just threw him to the wall, using his own powers. How can I even think of putting any more strain on him?  
  
"Alright then. I'll do it. Step back."  
  
Allendorf reluctantly leaves his work. "Don't touch the salt," he says to me. Salt?  
  
I let go of the cover I've been holding and let it rumple on the floor. Then I swallow down a nasty lump in my throat. Okay, this is it. I reach out my hand and place it on Tsuzuki's brow. His eyes are closed and he's pale and unmoving. Gods, I almost wish he hadn't woken up at all, because now I'm afraid of the next time he is going to open his eyes. Are they going to be blue or purple?  
  
I push my thoughts aside. I lower my shields and let his thoughts slip into mine. No, not his; Harvey's wife's. The fall is not as sudden as before, but I do feel it: suddenly the world seems to be a cruel, cold place. But this is just the surface. I want to know more. So I plunge deep, blindly searching for the memories that I need.  
  
And, in a heady rush, I dive into Mrs. Harvey's last night. 


	7. With Soft Fingers

Author's Note: I'm breaking my pattern with this chapter, as it still follows Hisoka's point of view. Or should I say, Mrs. Harvey's. Anyway, this chapter exists because otherwise Chapter Six would've been huge. And I wouldn't have gotten my cliffhanger! XP Hope you like it, and cliffhangers are still my little C&C bitches.  
  
I fixed the weird periods. They should be in order, now.  
  
Chapter Seven: With Soft Fingers  
  
I'm in the bedroom, sitting on the bed. My back hurts for all the cleaning I've been doing the whole day. I've pulled back the covers, made sure the bed looks as nice and welcoming as possible, but Albert's obviously not coming back until the small hours, and he'll prefer the sofa downstairs. It's happened before, I really shouldn't mind. It's almost the end of the semester, so I shouldn't worry, should I? It's completely normal, yes it is. I can be alone for another night, another week. What difference would it make, were he here with me? He's always so distant, irritated, snaps at me for minor reasons. His work must be getting into him, but why, why doesn't he let me help?  
  
My head is starting to throb. My nerves, I really should watch out for them, the doctor said I have high cholesterol levels. I'm just so tired. I reach out for the painkillers I take each night, for the headache.  
  
Then a sudden thought comes to me. Wouldn't it be so nice to rest... for longer than I've ever rested, let go and travel to a happier place, where my husband still remembers me and I'm loved? This is a horrible thought, I know, but I... I just don't have the strength anymore. It would be better for everybody if I just rested, went away. I'm of no use to anyone anymore.  
  
Around the sixth pill, I begin to gag and go over to the bathroom to take a glass of water. Already the blood is humming in my ears, yes, this is the soft and comfortable way, I'll walk it until the end. I fill a mug with water, hastily gulp some more pills down, quick, I don't want to stay...  
  
In a second I realize that it was too quick, and I barely have time to reach the toilet before I'm sick all over the carpet. I cough and splutter, weak and powerless, then slip down on the bathroom floor. My body is wracked with ugly, loud sobs. Why can't I do it, why can't I even put an end to my own life? Such a failure, failure, failure...  
  
Someone attacks me then, throws me on the floor. My god, a burglar, I think, and the blood is pulsing in my veins, and I can hardly hear anything over the steady sound. But it doesn't look like a burglar, it's a young woman, she's got light brown hair and her eyes are like stone. She takes a hold of my collar and lifts me up, then repeatedly slaps me, hard, on my face. The pain is dulled down, but I can still feel it, and I'm afraid, please, someone, help me!  
  
"Look at you," she spits out, dragging me up from my nightshirt and hair, "here you are feeling sorry for yourself, while Albert is working for you, he does it all *for you*, you selfish bitch! You don't even *know* what Albert has to go through, no, you only care about having a big important foreign husband who is a professor at the university!"  
  
This is not happening. This is a nightmare. I didn't spit out all the pills, maybe I'm actually dying, maybe this is my purgatory.  
  
"You don't deserve him. But he can't get rid of you." The woman might be quite pretty, without that scary, grim expression. "I can make it right. Yes I can. A service for everybody." Her voice is softer now. or maybe I'm starting to drift to unconsciousness.  
  
Her fingers are soft too. So very soft, as her nails bury into my neck.  
  
But the voice that booms from somewhere behind the woman and her fingers is sharp and cuts right through me. Just hearing that voice used to make me so happy.  
  
"Rachel! Rachel, dear God in heavens, what are you doing?! What is going on? Let her go, are you crazy, let go of her I said!"  
  
Why... why couldn't you even let me die without your name in my lips?  
  
***  
  
*I have to get out. Now.*  
  
As soon as I tell myself that, I can feel the misery start to fade. It's warm in here, I don't feel alone at all. I'm just very, very tired. I gulp air down like a drowning man. I'm alive. She's not. And now I know why.  
  
Voices that I know... gods am I glad to hear them. I need to catch my breath, calm myself.  
  
"He's okay now? I tell you, Watari-san, sometimes you folks scare me. There's something personal in your powers that just cuts too damn close, if you follow me."  
  
"He will be fine. Though exhausted. Allendorf-sensei, would you mind informing Tatsumi that we have new information, available after a healthy nap?"  
  
"Heh. Will do. Should probably report back to my own team, too. No more ghostbusting in here, I reckon."  
  
"You tell me, sensei."  
  
"I'm telling you, drop the sensei already. It's all about the rituals, not damn titles."  
  
Maybe I could actually open my eyes for a bit. For as long as it takes to find a nice futon, at least. I feel I could sleep until the next ice age. My eyelids are heavy, but I can drag them open.  
  
The first thing I see is a half-eaten piece of chocolate cake.  
  
"Hello there," Tsuzuki says as he licks some chocolate off the side of his mouth. Then he gives me a smile sweeter than any cake in the world. "You took your time, didn't you?" 


	8. Proof

Author's notes: Not too yaoitic yet. Sorry. I'm in a WAFFy mood. And Hisoka really was exhausted, at that. Can't have him faint or anything. :)  
  
Also, I'd appreciate some comments on my Watari. I had some problems with writing him in this chapter. He's just one those characters that work so well on the screen and in manga pictures, but seem to lose something when reduced to words.  
  
Chapter Eight: Proof  
  
  
  
Hisoka stares at me, as if I've just grown wings.  
  
"How are you feeling?" I ask to avoid an uncomfortable silence, and dig my spoon into the cake once more. Mmm... caramel sauce.  
  
"Okay. Tired," he replies in a sleepy voice and looks around, as if searching for something.  
  
I take the plastic plate with the cake on it in my hand and move to the floor. I pat the futon Hisoka's sitting on. "Lie down, then. Or if you're hungry, I ordered some food."  
  
"You ordered dessert. I ordered food," Watari says behind me. I turn around to look at him and he gives me a cheerful Watari wink, then turns to Hisoka. "Sleep might do you good, bon."  
  
Hisoka sits up straight, obviously collecting himself. "I know how Mrs Harvey died, Watari-san. And the medical record makes sense now too... but we have to find Mr. Harvey, right now! He is... he saw what happened, just like me..." Hisoka stops and rubs his temple, looking really tired.  
  
"But what about the killer? The woman? Shouldn't we find her first?" Watari asks, knitting his eyebrows.  
  
Hisoka shakes his head. "No. Find Mr. Harvey. He knows who the killer is."  
  
Watari is still not satisfied. "So who *is* the killer? Did you see her? And how exactly Mrs. Harvey died, if she was strangled, but the medical record of her suicide was correct?"  
  
"Watari," I interrupt quietly, "can't you see he's exhausted? Why not do as Hisoka says and go find Mr. Harvey, and let him get some rest?"  
  
Watari glances at me. "You're right, Tsuzuki. I guess I got carried away." He beams at Hisoka, and ruffles his hair. "Good work, bon. You take a nice long nap now, okay?"  
  
"Don't have to tell me twice," Hisoka mutters, and yawns.  
  
Watari stands up and dusts off his knees. "I'd better let Tatsumi know before doing anything." He smiles at me. "He was not too happy when he found out that I got someone from the Western Department to perform exorcism on you without his approval. Konoe-kacho is going to give us the third degree for all the improvisation we've been doing on this case. But that spell turned out quite right, wouldn't you say, Tsuzuki?"  
  
"I'm here to prove it," I smile back at him and put another spoonful of cake in my mouth. "Where did that beard guy go, by the way? I thought he wanted to hear what Hisoka had to say."  
  
Watari has turned his attention to his beloved laptop. "Allendorf's gone to talk to his superiors. I said I'll meet him with Tatsumi tomorrow morning."  
  
"And what about Hisoka and me?"  
  
Watari doesn't look at me, but he smiles a crooked smile as he types on. "You sit back, get some rest and don't get possessed."  
  
"Sounds fair enough," I say to Hisoka.  
  
He opens his mouth, then closes it again, and looks down at the remains of the cake to avoid my eyes.  
  
"I saved some for you, too," I tell him, and take a big spoonful of cake. "You could use something to eat, I suppose."  
  
"I'm okay," he mutters, trying to straighten the covers on the futon.  
  
"As your partner, I'm concerned about your energy levels," I state, half joking, and move the spoon closer to his face. "Come on, say ah!"  
  
His cheeks turn pink. "I said I don't need it!"  
  
"Just one whimsy little spoonful? It can't hurt you..."  
  
Hisoka sighs overdramatically, shrugs and looks at anything but me. "Okay. Fine. If that'll get you to let me sleep."  
  
I nod approvingly and feed him the cake. He gets his mouth full, and after gulping down most of the cake, makes a face. "Ugh. Was that pure sugar or something? I mean, who eats caramel chocolate *custard* cake?" he complains, but licks his lips, anyway.  
  
I chuckle. He's acting like a kid who's being forced to finish his veggies at the dinner table.  
  
"Another bite?" I offer.  
  
"No. I got enough sugar to last me a lifetime, thank you." Oh, but he is cute when he's pouting like that.  
  
I take the covers from his hands and move them out of the way. "In that case, I'm tucking you in."  
  
Hisoka's eyes are suspicious as he lies down. He looks like he expects me to explode any second as I pull the covers over him.  
  
I remember what Watari told me when I woke up. *This isn't the first time you woke up, Tsuzuki. We had to knock you unconscious, because it turns out you weren't quite yourself...*  
  
I just bet that's it. I attacked Hisoka, although I don't remember a thing about it, and now he's afraid I'm going to do it again. I wish I could remember. Watari didn't go into detail, and I got the feeling that he actually didn't know. It doesn't feel right to have this black hole in my memory. The last thing I remember thinking is, 'how come I'm making Hisoka feel uncomfortable?' Then, nothing until I opened my eyes to see a strange bearded man who grinned in a way that was downright scary.  
  
There must have been something else than just a plain attack. Hisoka isn't afraid of *me*. And, well, I've been possessed before. He sure wasn't afraid to confront me then. It's the fact that I don't know what wrong I've done to him, unaware of it or not, that makes me feel guilty now.  
  
Hisoka still hasn't closed his eyes, although I can tell he's dying to. He's waiting to see what I'm going to do.  
  
I sit on the floor next to him and pull my knees up, then rest my hands on them.  
  
"I'm not going to do anything weird, Hisoka. Go to sleep."  
  
"You wouldn't be able to keep that promise if she came back," Hisoka says, his voice almost too low for me to hear. I scuttle closer to hear him, and he withdraws slightly, pulling the cover up to his nose like a shield.  
  
"She's gone. That guy from Western Department knew what he was doing." I can't quite keep the pain out of my voice. "It's just me, Hisoka."  
  
"I *know*," he says, his voice slightly irritated. "I know it but it doesn't help. It's irrational, Tsuzuki." He pauses, then continues, his voice low again. "You scared the hell out of me. You know?"  
  
"No. I don't. The last thing I remember is you giving me a hug, and I didn't want you to let go." He blushes at that, but I'm just trying to be as honest as I can. "I'm not going to ask you what happened, because obviously you're trying to forget it. But I still wish I knew."  
  
Hisoka looks like he can hardly keep his eyelids open. "I wasn't afraid of the ghost. What scared me was that I thought it was you."  
  
"What?" I stare at him, not believing my ears. "I would never attack you! Not for any reason!"  
  
Hisoka forces his eyes open and gives me a very serious look. "Then prove it to me. Give me your hand."  
  
I'm not following him. "What? My hand? Why?"  
  
"So that I can feel you."  
  
Oh. now I understand. My feelings won't lie. It makes me surprised to say the least, but immensely happy when I understand what he's asking. Hisoka hates to be touched, he hates it when other people's emotions wash over him. And now he actually *wants* to feel mine.  
  
I reach out my hand and place it on the cover, next to his face. He looks at it like it's an animal that might bite, then hesitantly takes it and places it on his cheek, holding it there. He sighs; like the touch of butterfly wings on my skin, and my heart skips a beat.  
  
"Hisoka," I can't help murmuring, my voice heavy with emotion.  
  
"Shhh. Be quiet." His voice is merely a whisper, and his eyes are closed. "I know. I know it's you." He draws in a deep breath, and relaxes, slowly letting sleep overtake him.  
  
I can't resist the temptation, and move my fingers down his cheek to his slightly parted lips. I stop for a moment, but he doesn't seem to protest; his breathing is regular now, he's already asleep. He must have been so exhausted, poor Hisoka. The hand that has been holding my hand in place drops on the mattress. I run the backs of my fingers over his nose, his lips, his chin. He's so beautiful now, so inviting. He won't wake up if I steal just one little kiss.  
  
"Tsuzuki!" a voice hisses behind me, and I almost jump out of my skin.  
  
Watari is wagging his finger at me. "Tsk tsk. No taking advantage of partners while they're asleep."  
  
I entirely forgot that he was in the room!  
  
Watari smiles so widely that his eyes crinkle up. "Just kidding. But he really needs his sleep, and I've got orders from Tatsumi, so if you'd step this way."  
  
I stand up, and find it hard to drag my eyes off my sleeping partner. "I'm coming."  
  
"Today?" Watari raises an eyebrow, then taps me on my shoulder. "Heck, I know you're smitten, but you still have a job."  
  
"But didn't you just say -"  
  
Watari shrugs apologetically. "That's what *I* said. That's not what Tatsumi says. He says that we need to find Professor Harvey because it turned out, as they investigated it, that he has murdered certain Miss Rachel Clifford." He sighs. "So I'm off to join their team, as soon as I finish writing my report to the Western Department."  
  
"Who is Miss Clifford?" I ask, and run a hand through my hair. "Looks like I have a lot of catching up to do."  
  
"It's just an educated guess, but I bet Miss Clifford is the one who killed Mrs. Harvey. She certainly had a motive. She was Professor Harvey's mistress for six years." Watari slaps me on the back and laughs. "But don't worry about catching up to things, we'll have plenty of time while we both write our reports!"  
  
My heart sinks. "Reports? Why me? It's not fair, I've only just been freed from the possession of an avenging ghost!"  
  
"You try telling Tatsumi that. Or Konoe-kacho." Watari winks, then cheerfully flips open his laptop. "Which would be a waste of time, trust me. I only barely managed to get Hisoka off the paperwork hook. We might as well get started!"  
  
I slump down on the chair and let my head drop on the table. "I *hate* paperwork! Stupid Tatsumi, does he *know* how I absolutely loathe making reports to kacho?"  
  
"Yes?" Watari beams at me across the table.  
  
"I didn't want you to answer that," I mutter, and bravely sit up to start writing. 


	9. Pulse

Author's Notes: Whoa! A long one, this. Also mightily late. But finally some yaoitic business. And Tatsumi, yay! Tell me how you like it, I sure had fun writing it. :)  
  
  
  
Chapter Nine: Pulse  
  
I wake up, suddenly, as if to the sharp shrill of an alarm clock. My eyes open easily, and every muscle in my body feels well-rested and just waiting to be used. A good night's sleep. Rare treat, but it does wonders.  
  
I sit up and observe the twilight and silence surrounding me. I'm wide awake, but all the world seems to be still sleeping. Curtains have been drawn over the window and it's still dark, the sun hasn't risen yet. Still, there is a soft blue light in the room that paints it in night time colours. I can see dust dancing slowly in the air, as sleepily as the rest of the world. I look around to see where the light is coming from, and see the laptop on the table. A plain, blue screensaver is running. Tsuzuki is slumped over the keyboard, sound asleep. Watari is nowhere to be seen.  
  
I stand up, stretch my arms a little and idly wish I had a change of clothes. I don't feel dirty, not really, but could use something fresh. Too much digging around dead people, or something of the kind... I wonder what day - or night - this is. The last few days blur in my mind until they're just one surrealistic mess of a ghost hunt. Too much at the same time; mind can't keep up. Oh well, it can wait. First things first.  
  
I'm starving. Tsuzuki said something about food, I recall. A minute of rummaging through the plastic bags that Watari and Tsuzuki have left lying around, and I'm rewarded with a curry bread, unopened can of Pokari and a large collection of sweets of various kinds. The empty containers indicate that there has been at least half as much, before Tsuzuki ate them for his dinner, most likely.  
  
Once I've eaten, I collect all the rubbish in one of the bags and put it in the corner. The room immediately seems bigger. I nod approvingly, and then start wondering where Watari might have gone. Knowing him, he should have at least left a note somewhere.  
  
I walk over to the table, making myself as silent as possible. I'm good at being silent, at that. I peek over Tsuzuki's shoulder; no notes left on the table. Wait a second, this is Watari, who hasn't written a single line by hand ever since he got his hands on a computer... I reach over and move the cursor a little. There's a Word document that looks unfinished; the sentence ends in a series of random letters, indicating that Tsuzuki fell asleep writing. But Notepad is also open, and there's the note I was looking for.  
  
"Tsuzuki," it reads, "I'm off! Once you're finished with the report, send it over to kachou and get some sleep. Tomorrow Tatsumi wants you at Professor Harvey's place around noon. I'm all out of owl food, so I'll head to the office before I get my eyes clawed out! See you at Harvey's! -W  
  
P.S. If Hisoka is still asleep at noon, don't wake him up. Tatsumi hinted that we might need his powers again later on. We don't want to exhaust him, now do we? _^"  
  
What am I... a rechargeable battery?  
  
Well, all in all, it's a relief to find that our duties are getting closer to the end. The case is practically over anyway, we've got the ghosts pinned down - one banished, one identified. Nothing to worry about; from now on it's just paperwork.  
  
Tsuzuki murmurs in his sleep, and I instinctively glance at him, but he slumbers on. I look at the computer clock; 6:42. It's not so early it's ungodly, so I might as well wake him up. He needs to finish the report, anyway, and since Tsuzuki has never quite mastered typing, it'll take hours, I bet. I seem to remember him once commenting that handwriting is going out of fashion for no reason. Not, of course, that I would believe him to be any more productive with pen and paper than he is with word processor.  
  
I nudge him. "Tsuzuki."  
  
He says, "Mmmhh," nuzzles closer to the keyboard (typing "kleerq,;99ooooo:y8" at the end of his report) and sleeps on.  
  
I grab his tie and yank. "Tsuzuki! Wake up!"  
  
That gives me his attention at last, and his heavy-lidded eyes focus vaguely on me. "'M 'wake... lay off, Watari..." He forces his eyes open all the way. "Hisoka," he corrects himself, sleepy smile spreading on his face as he straightens his back. "Thought it was Watari. 'Morning. What time is it?"  
  
"Almost seven," I inform him.  
  
"In the morning?"  
  
I nod.  
  
Tsuzuki rakes back his tousled hair and sighs. "No one's awake at this hour."  
  
"Half of Japan is," I point out. "I just thought I'd give you a chance to finish up your report before we have to get going. But we still have plenty of time, so you should have time for a nap, if you're still tired. Watari wrote he'll meet us at twelve o'clock."  
  
"Hm. I guess I would prefer a futon to sleep on, at that," Tsuzuki admits with a small yawn. He scrambles on his feet, straightens his rumpled shirt. "So Watari's gone? Did he leave anything for breakfast?"  
  
I walk over to the oshiire to take out another futon. "Breakfast's your favourite: some mochi, candy, and cookies. I ate the rest of the real food."  
  
"But cookies are not breakfast, they're for afternoon snacks," Tsuzuki cheerfully argues. I can hear the grin in his voice, even though I can't see him at the moment over the huge mattress.  
  
"No no no no, I can get them - here, let me-"  
  
Tsuzuki comes to my aid, and together we spread out the futon for him. I sit down on my own, about a meter away.  
  
"It looks more comfortable than mine," I comment tonelessly.  
  
Tsuzuki glances up at me. A simple look, nothing to it. He doesn't even smile and crack a joke like I half expect him to. Just... looks at me. And suddenly I'm aware of a strange feeling crackling in the air between us, something warm and yet able to make me shiver. I wonder if I'm still half- asleep, imagining things, mistaking reality for some fuzzy part of a forgotten dream. But what actually is out of the ordinary? What is it that makes me feel so conscious about him, and myself? There is no new look on Tsuzuki's face, just the features I know so well. His voice, too, is Tsuzuki's voice, nothing more, nothing less.  
  
No coldness there of any kind.  
  
"You can have it if you want," he says softly.  
  
I look down and away, attempting to break the strange connection. The air is heavy with unsaid words, hidden meaning. No, not only hidden; crypt- written, locked off, forgotten. I'm confused. Am I afraid, or... excited?  
  
"'S alright," I manage to mutter. I feel I might be blushing. I'm *not* thinking what I'm thinking. It was a simple question, nothing more. What's wrong with me?  
  
A moment of heavy silence. It doesn't feel particularly awkward, just impossible to break. Time crawls by, and I just stare at the futon, trying to get a hold of myself.  
  
"Hisoka," a solemn voice calls, interrupting my reverie. For a while, I don't realize it's Tsuzuki speaking. My head snaps up; the voice came from above. Tsuzuki has gotten up and is standing a few steps away with his side to me, his gaze fixed on the wall behind me. His other hand is on his hip. He looks strange in the pale light; foreign and adult. This is one of the rare times when I've looked at Tsuzuki and realized that he's older than me by nearly a century. His eyes are so serious they're almost grim. I think they appear that way because Tsuzuki always has some kind of sparkle in his eyes, something playful that makes it so difficult to take him seriously at times.  
  
"What is it?" I ask him.  
  
"Um. I think we need to talk."  
  
Great, that's *just* what I wanted you to say, something that tells me nothing. Frustration builds up inside me; I force it down before snapping at Tsuzuki as usual. He might take it seriously, from the way he looks right now.  
  
He gives me a sideways glance. "Hisoka? You okay?"  
  
I nod; I seem to have forgotten how to speak Japanese.  
  
"Look, if you're still tired, just tell me, okay? You've been through a lot lately. The last thing I want is -"  
  
"And you haven't?" I can't help it; my voice cracks a little when I finally speak up. Then the words just roll off my tongue. "I've slept well, and eaten, and I'm perfectly fine! This happens to be my job! I'm not made of fucking glass!"  
  
Tsuzuki raises his eyebrows and looks taken aback. Soon his surprised face turns amused, and he bites back a smile.  
  
"Are you laughing at me?" I grumble.  
  
On cue, he laughs. "Well, that just wasn't quite what I thought you'd say. You'll excuse me for being born in 1900."  
  
My automatic response is, "Oyaji."  
  
"Oh, shut up before I take away your allowance, kiddo." He saunters over to my futon, a good-natured grin on his face, and casually slumps down next to me. I instinctively make some more space between us. Tsuzuki doesn't mind people invading his personal space, so he happily invades others', without giving it a second thought. Well, this is better than before, I suppose. At least the atmosphere's relaxed now. But the strange mixture of fear and excitement hasn't gone anywhere.  
  
"So." He is still smiling at me. "I'll take your word for it, then. You're fine. You're snapping at me as usual."  
  
I don't think he meant to actually say that last bit aloud. He looks away for a second, trying to find some way to explain himself out of it. But the comment has already hit me right between my eyes, and I frown. I draw my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs.  
  
"I just don't *get* you. It's like you're constantly trying to make up for something, concerning yourself with other people all the time. Actually, you've been getting more and more like it recently! What happened to what you said to me when we were made partners - that it's strictly business, that we need to get along because of work, nothing more?"  
  
Tsuzuki seems to find my futon very interesting, too. He laughs nervously. "Yes, well, back then I thought it needed to be said. You looked like you were ready to claw my eyes out, and that's not awfully productive for teamwork, you know? And work has always come first, hasn't it?" He pauses for just a second, and then goes on, in a slightly lower tone. "I think I actually was telling that more to myself than to you."  
  
"You're weird." I surprise myself by saying this, then immediately regret it. That wasn't what I meant to say, I meant -  
  
"Oh, that's assertive," Tsuzuki counters before I get a chance to explain. "Do you call our line of work normal? Something I learned along the years is that you have to get a little crazy to put up with all this death."  
  
That was bitterer than anything I've ever heard him say. I glance at him; he's staring into space, and the smile on his face has died off.  
  
"Tsuzuki? That's not like you."  
  
He sighs. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get dramatic. What I mean is - well, our lives are full of darkness, full of death, already. I don't mean just us shinigami, but ordinary humans, too. This latest case is a perfect example. It's a harsh world. Why add to the pile and go moping about? The least we can do is to try to care for each other."  
  
Yes, he has a point. But what is he getting at? I decide to challenge him to finish what he has begun.  
  
"So, basically you're saying that mothering me is going to make the world a better place."  
  
Tsuzuki looks embarrassed for a second, then laughs. "You know what I mean, Hisoka!"  
  
I grant him a friendly look; go on. He goes serious all of a sudden.  
  
"I know it's kind of a weird philosophy, but it's the only thing that has kept me on the track many times. I can't blame you if you think I'm out of my mind, really. They used to tell me so, and I told myself the same countless times, and that was *before* I died."  
  
"Who's they?" I can't help asking. "You're not out of your mind, that's not what I said. Why would anyone think that?"  
  
Tsuzuki looks uncomfortable. "W-well... just something that people didn't think was very proper. This thing about my tastes that could get you to a mad house in those times..."  
  
"What, the obsessed cake gobbler section?"  
  
Stop hinting, Tsuzuki dammit, and tell me something.  
  
Tsuzuki doesn't give any warning before starting to ruffle my hair. I wince at the touch, but relax once I realize he's only being playful. I don't like to admit it, but for a second I actually think he's going to grab my hair and throw me down and clutch my throat...  
  
"Will you just let me finish one sentence without turning it into a joke, huh?" His voice is filled with laughter. "I'm trying to be serious here!"  
  
"You're not doing so well at it!" I retort, and try to dodge away.  
  
"And *you're* certainly not making it any easier!" Tsuzuki tries to pout, which is hard to do when you're chuckling. He finally lets my hair be, although he makes a fake attempt to start it over again. I jump off the futon, and he grins.  
  
"So you're scared of me now?"  
  
He's a tease. For once, it doesn't irritate me; after all, that is practically an inside joke. He knows that I *am* wary of him, wary of anything that would hint at the ghost's return. It's a dark kind of humor that comes out of our cases, our daily life. Tsuzuki is right, the presence of death lingers in the air, whatever we do. The victims are dead, the culprits are dead, we are dead. What can you expect?  
  
I shiver. Cold thoughts make you feel cold. It's like a wind blowing through the graveyard. I look up at Tsuzuki. It's an instant reflex; make me feel warm, you're good at it. He's now opposite of me, sitting on the futon with his legs stretched out, and I'm crouching on the floor, as if I'm not quite sure whether to stand up and leave or not.  
  
"Isn't it funny that after dying... you could still be afraid of death?" My voice is strained to my own ears. I don't really care for an answer. I just need a reason to look at him.  
  
The morning sun has invaded the room and painted it in yellow hues. The light makes everything look so warm and soft. Tsuzuki seems to have noticed, as well. His eyes are glossed over, and he seems to enjoy the serene moment.  
  
This is not the right time to be discussing death. And yet, we are, neither of us finding it strange in any way.  
  
"But, Hisoka, that is the proof that even after death, there is life. For us, anyway. I wouldn't want to guess whether Professor Harvey's wife might agree." He smiles. It's an everything-will-be-alright -smile. "This might be a somewhat grim existence, but it is our life, and that won't change."  
  
"Then why is it so cold?" Am I actually saying it out loud? "There's so much death and pain and despair and we're just supposed to take it on the chin because it's all the life we get? What the hell is that supposed to mean, I didn't become a shinigami to get another miserable attempt of a life!"  
  
It's all so damn unfair.  
  
"Now, now, Hisoka. How am I supposed to answer that, huh?"  
  
Tsuzuki sounds tired. He sighs. I look at him hesitantly, and find a stern look on his face.  
  
"Come here."  
  
"What?" I ask stupidly.  
  
"I'll try and give you the only answer I've got." And he grabs my arm, pulling me over to him. During these last two days he seems to have totally forgotten that I hate being touched, something he's respected dutifully ever since I made it clear to him. I think I've somehow forgotten too. I just can't find it in me to be uncomfortable when he pulls me close, wrapping one hand firmly around my shoulders. It's such an honest embrace. I almost feel ashamed for still keeping up my barriers when he's being so open with me. But it's a force of habit; it's become much more difficult for me to lower my shields than to keep them up. Even in times like this, when there's nothing to fear...  
  
And yet I'm reminded of the last time Tsuzuki held me like this, and I found it wasn't him at all in the end. I swallow; I'm suspicious. My face is pressed into Tsuzuki's shirt, and I try to pull apart enough to see his face.  
  
His eyes...  
  
But Tsuzuki's grip on my shoulder grows stronger. He prevents me from seeing anything but his shirt and neck. I can feel his breath in my hair; his voice is low and somewhat husky.  
  
"No, Hisoka, I know what's going through your mind right now, but just listen to me. I know what you've had to go through, and I know it's hard. When there's too much death in your life, just focus on living things, okay? Focus on - something - something that won't go away, something that cares. If you only can, focus on me."  
  
My heart is hammering. It's the mix of excitement and fear, grown to almost its full potential. My barriers are crackling. Tsuzuki's voice is even lower as he continues.  
  
"I've tried to make it good for you, be a friend that you so obviously needed. Sometimes I feel it's not working, that you don't even want me to. Is that it, Hisoka? Tell me, dammit, is it all worth it or not?"  
  
I'm honestly scared now; he's never talked to me like this. I've never heard him be so serious about anything. He's never demanded anything from me before.  
  
I struggle against his grip; he stays firm. No - this was a mistake - I'm in trouble - if only I could see his eyes, see the cold hate there and know for sure -  
  
"No you won't," he says to my hair, something desperate in his voice. "Trust me, Hisoka, trust me as I say this: you're special to me, not as a partner, not as a friend, and I can't hide behind those roles anymore. If all I am to you is a nuisance of a partner who meddles in your affairs, then tell me now, because I'm not letting go until I hear your answer."  
  
"Tsuzuki, you're scaring me," I hear myself say, whimpering like a child in distress. It is too much.  
  
"Yes." His voice grows softer, gentler. His grip on my shoulders turns so light it's tentative. "I'm scaring myself," Tsuzuki says. He sounds so lost that I feel my chest tighten. Oh... Tsuzuki. How could I suspect it to be someone else? All of a sudden, even the idea seems ridiculous. I feel Tsuzuki's presence all around me; I've never been so aware of it before. Before I realize what I'm doing, I lift up my arms and wrap them around his chest. It seems the only thing I can do.  
  
I can feel him take in a sharp breath. I move a little from my awkward position, and find myself strangling Tsuzuki's thighs. This is comfortable. I could just wrap myself around him, bury myself in this sweetness that surrounds him.  
  
I feel a hand entwining in my hair, gently turning my head up. As soon as I see his face, it becomes clear to me what he meant by 'special'. It's written there in his warm, amethyst eyes. The look on his face is apologetic. "Please," he says, and as if trying to catch the word back, he leans forward, and presses his mouth against mine.  
  
For a horribly awkward moment, I don't know what to do. I freeze, my whole body tensing up. Then, slowly, I find things to focus on - the shape of Tsuzuki's lips, his hand traveling down my spine, the other snaking around my waist to hold me closer... And yes, I want to be closer to him, as close as I can.  
  
As I wriggle closer, he pulls away a little, enough for the tips of our noses to touch. No, don't stop - not yet - I'm finally catching on... I release my arms from around his chest and reach up to catch his head with both hands, to crush those hungry lips back to mine. I want to answer that challenge.  
  
And a worthy challenge it is. Tsuzuki clings onto me tightly, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me against him until I'm so close that I'm almost melting into him... It's become very warm all of a sudden, and there is something hot stirring inside me, a flame kindled by the feel of Tsuzuki's mouth against mine. I didn't know a kiss could be so - so overwhelming, I didn't know how much it could make me hungry for more. The need to have more is insistent enough to almost make me forget my usual carefulness on uncharted territories. I'm not sure what I'm doing, but I want to taste more of that sweet mouth, so if I'll just open my mouth a bit more and -  
  
A small, surprised sound escapes me as Tsuzuki's tongue slips in my mouth and searches mine. Yes, this was what I was looking for, this and more... I grab his hair and let the world turn into a hot haze, where I can only feel Tsuzuki's mouth and Tsuzuki's body against mine. Oh, it's a delicious feeling, and I readily give into it, hungrily searching for more. I move blindly, trying to be closer than close, and Tsuzuki's hands are everywhere at once, making me enveloped in his presence. My head is spinning - Tsuzuki's hands are moving downwards, they're on my hips, the touch making me all the more conscious of the heat and hardness between my legs...  
  
Tsuzuki's mouth leaves mine, not abruptly, but brings some of my sense back to me once I open my eyes again. I vaguely realize I should be embarrassed. Then I look at Tsuzuki and forget all about it. His chocolate brown hair is tousled from my hands and gives his face a wildered look. His eyes are a deeper shade of purple, wide and amazed. For an endless second, he stares at me in unbelief, breathing heavily. Then he closes his mouth and smiles, tentatively at first, then so wide that his eyes crinkle. He looks so - happy.  
  
"I - I guess you're not scared anymore," I say, my voice hoarse, just to say something. That was a really stupid thing to say, I realize, and feel my face grow hotter as Tsuzuki keeps looking at me.  
  
Tsuzuki laughs a clear, happy laugh that shatters my brief discomfort. He lets go of me, his hands coming up to caress my face, tuck back my hair. He smiles as his eyes find mine, and my heart skips a beat. He's so gentle, and warm, and so achingly beautiful...  
  
I swallow hard, hardly daring to breathe.  
  
"I'm sorry for coming on so strong," he whispers, "I just felt I couldn't hold it back anymore. You're - you drive me absolutely *crazy* sometimes, you know that?"  
  
His eyes glint in the old, playful way. He inches closer, his mouth barely a thread away from mine.  
  
"I guess you would know, at that."  
  
Oddly enough, through the thick emotion that hangs in the air, I finally remember to be embarrassed about what we just did. Feeling my cheeks burn, I turn my face away and move back a little.  
  
Tsuzuki kisses my cheek. "What is it? Second thoughts?"  
  
"No, I - I just never -"  
  
My search for words comes to an end as our mouths find each other again. I have no idea which one of us initiated it, but I welcome the kiss eagerly. It takes so little - the feeling when the tips of our tongues meet, the taste of his mouth - to make the heat return. I shudder as Tsuzuki's mouth leaves mine, but instead of backing away, he kisses me just below my lower lip, then my chin, then under it...  
  
I can't help a low groan at the sensation of Tsuzuki's wet mouth on my throat. I throw my head back, giving him better access, but he's painfully slow, carefully searching for the right spots and making my heart beat faster and faster. He flickers his tongue against a vein, against my raging pulse, and I squirm against him, seeking release from the teasing touch.  
  
Then I suddenly hear a loud knock, and everything seems to come to a screeching halt. Tsuzuki straightens his back, and our eyes dart at the door. Shit! I start scrambling up, desperately trying to calm myself - it's always worked before, but of course, not now.  
  
"Tsuzuki-san? Are you awake?" calls a voice behind the door. It's Tatsumi. And it sounds like he has Watari with him, I can hear him say something. Just perfect!  
  
Tsuzuki is trying to straighten himself out, too. As we come apart and he quickly gets on his unsure feet, I can't help noticing the bulge in his black pants, although he's trying to fix his shirt to cover it. I chide myself for making matters worse and wish I was wearing black pants, too, instead of my now uncomfortably tight jeans.  
  
"Um, hold on a second, Tatsumi, Hisoka's changing his clothes," Tsuzuki replies hastily.  
  
Well, I have to congratulate Tsuzuki on not claiming that *he* was changing his clothes. He's never been shy of changing in front of anybody, but he knows that Tatsumi knows I'm a different matter. Still, it's the oldest fake excuse in the book.  
  
"Tsuzuki," I frantically whisper, "I don't have any change clothes! Watari'll know we're lying!"  
  
"I have, in the suitcase," he replies, in an equally low voice.  
  
"I'm not wearing *your* shirt!"  
  
But Tsuzuki has already opened the suitcase, and throws me a white shirt that is identical to the one he's wearing.  
  
"Look, I can't, it's too big for me and they know I never wear anything but t-shirts..."  
  
"Hush, roll up the sleeves and it'll be fine!"  
  
I really have no choice, so I quickly pull off my t-shirt and put on the white shirt, with Tsuzuki fussing about trying to help and just making it take longer. As I tuck the ends of the shirt loosely in my jeans and start rolling up the sleeves, Tsuzuki calls to Tatsumi, "Okay, come on in."  
  
Tatsumi opens the door, and stops to give the room a brief check. Watari bursts in after him.  
  
"Oh, good, you're awake!" he says, beaming. "I was afraid of waking you up. They wanted to see the death report of Mrs. Harvey, you have it with you, don't you, Tsuzuki?"  
  
Three more people enter the room; I slump down on the futon and make myself as small and unnoticeable as possible. One of them is Allendorf; after him comes a blond, serious woman in a dark green suit, and the last, a young shinigami I remember seeing talking with Watari sometimes in the lab, closes the door after him.  
  
Tsuzuki clears his throat. I can only see his back, but I can tell he is still a little out of breath, too.  
  
"Yes, I have it right here, hold on a moment." He grouches down to pick up a file from the suitcase, and gives me a quick, secret glance before turning to give the file to Watari. Tatsumi is talking with Allendorf in a low voice. The young shinigami - a tall, lanky man with short black hair and very lively eyes, looks at Tsuzuki curiously. I've never worked with him, but he seems to have heard of us. I squirm a little, uncomfortable.  
  
Watari looks over a few pages. "Well, Exley-san, why don't you look at this - it really doesn't say anything about the throat, so I'm positive that -"  
  
The woman in the green suit takes the file and examines it, her bright red lips tight. "Hexley, if you don't mind. And yes, it doesn't, but that only proves my point - we need the solid proof, and that's where I come in."  
  
Watari shakes his head, frowning.  
  
I can't help my curiousity, so I ask, "What's going on?"  
  
Tatsumi gives me a brief glance. "Hexley-san here is not convinced that whatever possessed Tsuzuki was, indeed, Professor Harvey's wife. She says we might me following a wrong lead."  
  
"What?" I stare at him, then at the woman, who sighs a little, shifting her weight to her other foot. "I can't believe this! Why are you arguing about something like that when the killer is still out there? Look, I was there, I saw the whole thing, and I swear -"  
  
"Yes, yes, Kurosaki-kun, we know," Tatsumi patiently says. "In any case, we can't afford to have loose ends on a case like this, so we had to check. But I'm afraid you have not been introduced to everybody."  
  
He turns to Allendorf, who seems to be deep in thought. "Allendorf-sensei, you've met them, haven't you? Well then, Hexley-san, these are Tsuzuki-san and Kurosaki-kun from the summoning department, the ones mentioned in the memo, and over there is Morino-kun from the medical wing. He's here as a backup, since it seems this case called for extra medical attention."  
  
Tatsumi looks at Tsuzuki as he says that, a very intense look that almost makes me uncomfortable in its intimacy, especially since Tsuzuki looks back and seems to be aware of it, too.  
  
Morino gives a brisk bow to Allendorf and Hexley. "Nice to meet you! I'm honoured to have this chance to work with the Western department. Though, three on three seems only fair, doesn't it?"  
  
He laughs, but nobody joins his laughter, instead everybody seems baffled.  
  
"Excuse me?" Hexley says, frowning again.  
  
Morino smiles nervously, finding everybody's eyes on him. "Well, there are three of us shinigami currently officially on the case - that's excluding Watari-san and Tatsumi-san who are merely offering their help. And three of you - but the charming third member of your party isn't back yet, I see." He looks around searchingly.  
  
Everybody's dead serious all of a sudden. Allendorf raises his voice. "Morino-kun, there are no other Western Department employees currently on the case. Who did you see?"  
  
Morino frowns worriedly. "Why, I didn't catch her name - but she was in the corridor while we were waiting to get in, standing really quietly behind you. A lovely young lady, blond hair, although he looked awfully upset - angry even. She went along the corridor when we stepped in, I assumed she was going to the bathroom or something -"  
  
My blood has turned to ice water in my veins. I search for Tsuzuki's eyes, and he turns quickly and looks at me, the same look of horror on his face.  
  
"Rachel Clifford," I say aloud.  
  
Watari looks at Tatsumi. "It's the ghost of the killer. What is she doing here?"  
  
Tatsumi puts his briefcase on the table and takes charge. "Allendorf- sensei, you come with me. Morino-kun, which way did she go? Left? All right, so she could still be in the building. Watari-san, check the entrance hall; Hexley-san, you go with him and keep your eyes open. Tsuzuki- san, you and Kurosaki-kun check out the rest of the rooms. Morino-kun, go with them."  
  
Watari and Hexley run out of the room. Allendorf takes a leather-covered book out of his pocket and starts leafing through it frantically. Tatsumi sees that everybody's ready, and gives final instructions from the doorway.  
  
"If anyone except me and Allendorf-sensei encounter her, give immediate sign to us and don't do anything until we arrive. Once you've checked the building, go to the entrance hall."  
  
Then he and Allendorf hastily leave the room.  
  
"Let's start in the kitchen, it's nearest," I say, giving Tsuzuki and Morino a look. Morino nods and runs along, almost eagerly. I follow close behind, but stop for long enough to grab Tsuzuki's hand. It's warm in my hand, and that's how I plan to keep it. No ghost is going to take out Tsuzuki's sweet warmth ever again - because now it belongs to me. 


	10. Memory

Chapter Ten: Memory  
  
Hisoka slams the kitchen door open. A surprised-looking tourist stares at us, but otherwise there's no one in the room. A faint smell of greasy chicken hangs in the air. Morino runs to check behind the rusting sink and cupboard - he even opens the microwave and peeks in - but Hisoka leaves after taking a quick look. He's got my hand in a strong grip, which kind of means I'm going with him. It feels a bit uncomfortable to be dragged along, but I don't mind. My heart does a funny little jump each time Hisoka tightens his hold.  
  
Back in the corridor, Hisoka runs to the next door, and opens it before even knocking.  
  
"Hisoka!" I warn, but fortunately, the room is empty.   
  
Or unfortunately. This leaves only two rooms the ghost could possibly be hiding in, and I don't look forward to neither meeting her nor finding that she's simply beamed herself out of the building and could be *anywhere* right now.  
  
I had no idea Western ghosts had such powers. I sure don't envy the Western department! No wonder they seem so uptight, or just plain weird.  
  
Hisoka opens the closet, just to make sure. I try to shake my hand free - gently, you understand - because it obviously is hampering his search, but he gives me a stern glance that is only a short step away from a growl. Ookay.  
  
Exiting the room, we run into both the excited-looking Morino and Allendorf, who's just closed the door to the room next to ours.  
  
"Did you find anything, sensei?" I ask Allendorf, who is putting away his leather-bound book. As usual, his face is too scary to hold any particular expression.  
  
Allendorf shakes his head. "The guests in the room had neither seen or felt anything unusual. Tatsumi-san stayed to ask a few more questions, but I don't think he'll learn anything of importance. Come, let us join the others."  
  
"We'll check one last room and join you then," Hisoka pipes in.  
  
Allendorf gives us a gruffy nod and walks briskly away, towards the entrance hall. I can hear Watari's voice from the direction, but the turn of the corridor prevents me from seeing anything. And then Hisoka is already pulling me towards the last door down the corridor.  
  
Morino runs to walk beside me. "Is this how you usually proceed when you're on a field trip?" he asks.  
  
"This is not a usual field trip," I tell him with a crooked smile.  
  
"Yes, but what I wanted to know was the procedure. You see, I've been thinking of leaving the laboratory work and joining the field investigators this year."  
  
We've reached the door, but Hisoka has to stop because I slow down in order to look at Morino. "Oh, is that why Tatsumi dragged you here with us?"  
  
That sly devil. I look at Morino's bright eyes and unruly hair; that certain eagerness in his body language... All features I know Tatsumi can appreciate.  
  
Morino laughs. "I wouldn't say *dragged*, not really- "  
  
I can't help the grin.  
  
"Investigation is done in pairs," Hisoka suddenly says. I can hear annoyance in his voice. "If there aren't any newcomers who could be assigned as your partner, you're stuck in the lab."  
  
Morino raises his eyebrows. "Aren't you a newcomer, too, Kurosaki-san?"  
  
"They do give the newcomers the most uncalled-for jobs, don't they?" I say with a wink. Morino, very obviously, glances at our entwined hands and then looks quickly away, embarrassed.  
  
"We can chat later!" Hisoka snaps. "Soon, none of us is going to have a j-"  
  
But as soon as he grabs the doorknob to turn it, he lets out a shocked shout and backs away as if it had burned him.  
  
"Hisoka!" I tighten my hold on his hand and pull him to me. He's gasping for breath.  
  
"What? What happened?" Morino inquires.  
  
I rake Hisoka's hair away from his eyes. "What did you feel? Is she there?"  
  
Hisoka shakes his head, frowning. "No, I... I don't know. She could be. What I sensed... It was..."  
  
I look up at the hesitating Morino. "Go get the others!"  
  
He nods several times and runs off.  
  
Hisoka is regaining his composure. "Tsuzuki... I sensed the presence of Professor Harvey."  
  
"Harvey's here too?" I stare at Hisoka, unbelieving. "But how could he - I thought he was under surveillance?"  
  
As Hisoka is about to answer, a door on the opposite side of the corridor opens and Tatsumi dashes out, heading straight to Hisoka.   
  
"Oh, Tatsumi! I think we've found something," I say, but he doesn't listen to me.  
  
He leans down worriedly and looks Hisoka straight in the eyes. "I heard you. What happened?"  
  
"I grabbed the knob and... images of Professor Harvey just flooded me." Hisoka glances at the door. "I've not felt such strong emotions for a long time. And so many different kinds, all at the same time..."  
  
"Anything else?" Tatsumi asks.  
  
Hisoka shakes his head. "I'm not sure. I'm sorry, it was too sudden."  
  
Just then Watari runs towards us from behind the turn of the corridor. At his heels are Allendorf and Morino. Hexley follows them, walking briskly.  
  
"Where is she?" Allendorf asks, looking like a boxer ready to take on his opponent. He's already opened his book and has it firmly in his hand.  
  
Tatsumi straightens his back. "We're not sure of anything yet, but it's worth checking out. Over there."  
  
He gestures for me and Hisoka to get out of the way. When Morino moves forward excitedly, Tatsumi raises his hand, stopping him on his heels. Allendorf and Hexley prepare to counter the ghost as Tatsumi turns the knob.  
  
The door opens silently. So far, it looks quiet. Allendorf peeks in, nods at Hexley and they open the door wide and enter the room. None of us in the corridor dare to say a word. I can hear Watari breathing heavily. Hisoka is taut and apprehensive next to me.  
  
Allendorf starts dictating something in incomprehensible murmur, and Hexley gazes around her, her head moving like a bird's. Allendorf leafs his book again as he checks the corners and smells the air. Everything the two of them do seems rehearsed, like they're afraid of messing up old rituals and procedures. They manage to make the atmosphere anything but relaxed.  
  
I take a step forward, to see a little bit better as they walk in further.  
  
"Tsuzuki, no!" Hisoka yanks at my arm, alarmed.  
  
Watari jumps. Tatsumi spins around to stare strictly at us. Morino gives a little shout of surprise.  
  
"There's nothing here!" Allendorf's booming voice seems to fill the room and the corridor. "False alarm."  
  
We all breathe out at last. Then the worry kicks in. This is the second and worse option; that the ghost could be anywhere but here.  
  
"What a relief!" Morino says aloud, putting his hand over his heart for effect. "I could've sworn that she -"  
  
"This is no reason to be relieved," Hexley snaps irritatedly as he marches to the corridor. "Allendorf, check the room next door. If she's not there, she's most likely already out of this building."  
  
Allendorf eyes her in an unfriendly way, but opens the next door and peeks in. "No one here. Dammit all to hell."  
  
Hexley moves nervously. "I'd rather not, thank you. This means we have to be extra attentive. She might return to strike us when we least expect it. I've known ghosts to use even more primitive means to lead their pursuers astray."  
  
Tatsumi takes the lead again. "Let's get out of the corridor. If she decides to appear, I'd rather it happened away from mortals' eyes."  
  
We start retreating back to the room.  
  
"But if Rachel Clifford was after us, she could've just entered the room with you earlier," I point out, shaking my head. "I don't think she's trying to trick us. She's working for her own ends."  
  
"I think so, too", Watari comes to my aid. "According to the information I received from the Western department, killers' ghosts are not prone to draw attention to themselves. Aren't they most often lingering here because of their feelings of guilt?"  
  
"Which often leads them to search for someone to confine to, to ease their burden," Hexley says, and turns to Allendorf. "Like a priest, for example."  
  
Allendorf raises both his hands. "I've told you, I am not a priest!"  
  
Hexley walks into the room, shrugging. "You have fooled dead people before."  
  
Tatsumi interrupts before Allendorf can answer her. "I think the question is, why did she follow us here? Shouldn't it be much more logical that she should pursue her lover, Professor Harvey, who killed her?"  
  
Morino shudders as he stops next to Tatsumi. "Yeah, what is she doing here, anyway? I thought Western ghosts were all in old castles and churches and such."  
  
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Tatsumi says with a sigh, and gives Morino a reassuring smile.  
  
"In any case," Watari says as he pushes his way into the room past Morino, "I'm going to inform the people we assigned to guard Professor Harvey, and the shinigami in the vicinity."  
  
I'm just about to follow Watari, when Hisoka suddenly takes his hand from mine.  
  
"Hold on a second. Watari-san, did you talk with the owner yet?"  
  
Watari turns around. His owl lets out a questioning "hoo?". "No, why?"  
  
"Kurosaki-san, you don't really expect the owner to know anything about Rachel Clifford?" Morino asks doubtfully.  
  
"I don't know yet. It might be good to ask." Hisoka looks at him calmly; his green eyes are as unbetraying as usual. Now I almost think of them as *cold* - now that I've seen how much warmth can be found in them...  
  
No, better not go there. I have a suspicion that Tatsumi sees right through me; no reason to add to it all by gawking at my partner. And now Tatsumi really is looking at me, as if he has read my mind. I try to pay attention to what he's saying.  
  
"All right, then. I'm coming with you. Watari-san, please contact Maekawa at Professor Harvey's apartment, and others in the area. Allendorf will stay here to make sure you're safe. Hexley will come with us." Tatsumi points his finger at Morino. "And you, Morino-kun, you stay here, too. Tsuzuki-san, Kurosaki-kun, let's go."  
  
Hisoka is already heading towards the counter. Now that he's ahead of me, I get a chance to admire the view. Damn, so much for concentrating on work. He just looks too delicious wearing one of my shirts.  
  
The owner, a skinny, balding man in his forties, eyes us suspiciously. "Yes, how can I help you?"  
  
Hisoka leans on the counter, the look on his face determined. "This may sound like a weird question, but did you ever have a regular client in this motel called Harvey?"  
  
The owner shakes his head, looking annoyed. "Not that I can remember."  
  
Morino comes to Hisoka's aid, apparently catching on to what he's thinking. I'm not quite sure what he's going after, yet. "Please try to think back. He's a foreigner, tall, mostly bald and dresses in expensive suits? Does any of this ring a bill?"  
  
The owner looks at him, then at Hisoka. If anything, he seems even more suspicious now. "Who are you? Private detectives?"  
  
"If you like," I put in, smiling my best smile.  
  
"I see. Well, if you were sent by his wife, you're late." The owner snorts. "He has stopped using this motel. Haven't seen him in weeks."  
  
"So he did come here regularly?" Hisoka presses on.  
  
"Every weekend, sometimes during the week. He had a young lady with him; I guess you know more about that than I care to know."  
  
Tatsumi nods. "We certainly do. Thank you very much; you've been most helpful."  
  
"One more question, if that's all right," Hisoka says. "Did Professor Harvey have any particular room he preferred?"  
  
The owner shrugs. "I can't really remember small details like that. I can tell you that he tended to ask for the smaller rooms at the back - most of the guests of his type do, if you know what I mean."  
  
I recall the dark, cramped rooms he's talking about; no one would want to stay in those for long. Shady rooms for shady business. The owner's holier-than-thou attitude vexes me a little. It's obvious he gets most of his wages from the guests of Harvey's "type".  
  
"Yes, thank you." Tatsumi nods to us and we move to the other side of the room to talk in peace. He looks at Hisoka appreciatively. "So, now we know why she might be haunting this place. How did you figure out the connection, Kurosaki-kun?"  
  
Hisoka shrugs, a bit sheepish. "Mostly I just guessed. But this is the closest motel to Professor Harvey's house that is small enough for Harvey's purposes. Many people know him from the university; checking into the bigger hotels in the area would've drawn too much attention."  
  
"But what would be reason enough for her to return here even after death?" I pipe in.   
  
"Not all Western ghosts need a specific reason," Tatsumi explains. "Sometimes they leave such a strong impression into the place they used to visit often - a psychic memory, as it's called - that it pulls them back even after death."  
  
"Oh," I say, feeling stupid. Maybe I should've done more background research.  
  
Tatsumi winks kindly at me. "I heard it from Allendorf-san earlier."  
  
I'm about to wink back when I notice Hisoka looking rather sourly at us and decide to skip it for now. "You were right, Hisoka. But what are we going to do next?"  
  
"Alert Allendorf-san and Hexley-san, of course," Tatsumi says, raising his eyebrows. "Now that we know the exact place Miss Clifford is haunting, it should be easy for them to ambush her and send her back to where she belongs."  
  
"What about us?" Hisoka asks.  
  
"Your job here is done. You may return to the headquarters."  
  
Hisoka protests immediately. "Before our case is closed? Tatsumi-san, that goes against the regul-- "  
  
"I see no reason why I should keep any more of our people here when it's still risky. Your job is to investigate; now is the exorcists' turn. You will leave with Morino-kun. Watari-san and I will handle the rest."  
  
"Yes, but..." Hisoka trails off and looks at the floor, frowning.  
  
"After all you've gone through, I was under the impression that you'd be glad to get out of this case."  
  
I look at Hisoka questioningly; Tatsumi is pretty much voicing my thoughts. It's very rare for him to cut us any slack, so why is Hisoka not taking the opportunity?  
  
Hisoka is still frowning. He swallows hard. "I thought so myself. But I - I can't let it end like this. I want to see this ghost exorcised. I just can't find any rest otherwise."  
  
"I see." Tatsumi looks at me now, thoughtfully. "Tsuzuki-san?"  
  
"If Hisoka's staying, so am I," I tell him, but he knows it already.  
  
Tatsumi thinks for a moment. Hisoka looks at him hopefully. "Very well," he finally says. "I can't say I like it, but this case was assigned to you in the first place, so you have every right to stay. You are to guard the place along with the Western Department - and remember, they're in charge, so no funny business. If you see even a glimpse of the ghost, call them immediately." A brief smile touches his lips as he straightens his glasses and adds, "Remember now... no funny business on work time."  
  
"Aw, Tatsumi!" I pout and nudge him, but he just shakes his head amusedly and leaves to tell Allendorf and Hexley.  
  
Hisoka looks after him and asks me in a low voice, "What the hell? Tatsumi knows?"  
  
"He knows me," I tell him, smiling.  
  
He looks at me like I'm the biggest pervert on the face of the earth for a second, then sighs and takes my hand again.  
  
I cock my head. "Why did you go and volunteer, Hisoka? The real reason?"  
  
"You know I hate to leave a job unfinished. And I want to make sure the ghost is never going to come after you again." He makes it sound so simple, and yet my heart leaps.  
  
"Come on," I say softly. "Let's go ghost-busting." 


End file.
